'<  j/'  :  ::.':v;y 


f^. 


if    1/ 


Bppletons'  Uovon  m\^ 
Country  Xlbrar^ 

No.  175 


NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST 


NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST 


BY 

TASMA 

AUTHOR    OF    UNCLE    PIPER    OF    PIPER's    HILL, 
IN    HER    EARLIER    YOUTH,    ETC. 


"A  Friend  loveth  at  all  times,  and  a  brother 
is  born  for  adversity  "  Proverbs 


NEW    YORK 

D.    APPLETON    AND    COMPANY 

1895 


Copyright,  1895, 
By  D.   APPLETON  AND  COMPANY. 


CONTENTS. 

PART  I. 

PAGE 

Introduction 1 

I. — Mrs.  Frost's  News 22 

II. — A  Home  in  Tasmania 32 

III. — How   ElLA   WAS    RECEIVED   AT  THE   IvY    CoTTAGE         ...  44 

IV. — Reginald  makes  an  Avowal 66 

V. — A  Peculiar  Family 85 

VI. — The  Wardens 97 

VII. — Lucy  makes  a  Confession 115 

VIII. — EiLA  as  Emissary 133 

IX. — The  Voyage 154 

X.— In  Paris 166 

XI.— Eila's  Notion 178 

Xll. — Eila's  Notion  takes  Shape 195 

XIII. — Bohemia's  Visitors 202 

XIV. — EiLA  prepares  for  the  Sacrifice 220 

PART  II. 

I. — At  the  Antipodes 229 

II. — Hubert's  Prophecy 236 

III. — Mamy  sees  the  Owner  of  the  Ruby 248 

IV.— Eila's  Ordeal 261 

V. — Eila's  Discovery 282 

VI. — Hubert  recognises  his  Australian  Cousins        .        .        .  291 

VII. — Hubert  meets  his  Cousins 306 

VIII. — Hubert  adopts  the  Family 312 

IX. — A  New  Catastrophe 321 

X. — The  Clouds  continue  to  gather 328 

XI. — EiLA  IS  asked  to  pay  the  Cost 347 

XII. — Eila's  Letter 368 

XIII. — Reginald's  Resolution 385 

XIV. — What  Eila  was  doing  Meanwhile 403 

XV.— Eila's  Remorse 421 

XVI. — An  Unexpected  Arrival 440 

XVII. — Conclusion 454 


NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 


PART  I. 

INTRODUCTION. 

A  GREAT  paddock,  full  of  scattered  haycocks,  sloping 
down  to  a  rough  mountain  road  that  leads  in  its  turn  through 
straggling  outskirts  to  a  town  lying  in  a  hollow.  Beyond 
the  town,  the  shining,  sparkling  waters  of  a  broad  blue  har- 
bour, hedged  round  by  purple  mountains.  The  bright  sum- 
mer air  of  Christmas  week  at  the  Antipodes  resting  upon 
the  scene ;  and  such  a  radiance  of  light  shed  over  it  by  the 
afternoon  sun  that  no  human  eye  can  gaze  upon  it  unblink- 
ing for  long.  This  is  the  setting  in  which  the  town  of  Ho- 
bart,  the  capital  of  the  far  Southern  island  of  Tasmania,  lies 
between  the  mountains  and  the  sea.  The  sloping  hay-i>ad- 
dock,  with  the  cottage  above  it,  whence  a  full  view  of  the 
sparkling  harbour  below  and  of  mighty  Mount  Wellington 
on  high — solemn  guardian  of  the  town — may  be  best  ob- 
tained, is  the  home  of  the  Clare  family,  residents  of  Cowa,  a 
rambling  property  perched  on  the  flanks  of  one  of  the  abrtipt 
hills  clustered  round  Mount  Wellington  as  children  cluster 
round  the  knees  of  their  father. 

When  we  see  it  first,  the  paddock  is  not  left  to  the  undis- 
turbed possession  of  its  haycocks.  A  tribe  of  young  people, 
varying  from  the  irresponsible  age  of  the  units  to  that  of 
full-fledged  teens,  are  running  wild  over  it  in  the  most  literal 
sense  of  the  term.  With  shrieks  and  jumps  they  bound  into 
the  haycocks  and  out  of  them,  like  so  many  men  of  Thes- 
saly  in  the  legendary  quickset  hedge,  their  hair  aiid  their 
clothes  so  stuck  over  with  straw,  so  generally  tumbled  and 
dishevelled  and  tousled,  that  at  a  first  glance  you  would  take 

1 


2  NOT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

them  for  a  tribe  of  juvenile  gipsies.  A  second  glance  might 
not  entirely  correct  the  first  impression,  for  on  a  closer  in- 
spection an  undeniable  strain  of  gipsy  blood  does  actually 
betray  itself  in  the  swarthy  colouring  of  the  black-haired 
lad  of  some  nine  or  ten  who  has  just  landed  head  foremost 
in  a  hay-mound.  And  a  similar  suspicion  would  suggest  it- 
self in  connection  with  the  rich  colouring  of  the  very  young 
girl  hard  by,  appai'ently  about  fourteen  or  fifteen,  who  is  pant- 
ingly  engaged  in  twisting  up  with  both  hands  an  escaped  coil 
of  magnificent  dark  hair,  that  a  moment  ago  lay  gleaming 
with  snake-like  undulations  on  her  back.  The  peculiar  dusky 
darkness  of  the  eyes,  a  certain  heavy-lidded,  tliick-lashed  en- 
vironment of  them,  recall  dim  visions  of  Lalla  Rookhs  or 
Brides  of  Abydos  to  those  who  observe  them  closely ;  and 
there  is  a  certain  untamed  suppleness  and  elasticity,  more  Ori- 
ental than  English,  in  the  young  girl's  movements  as  well. 
Her  face  is  very  much  flushed,  but  the  nape  of  the  neck,  which 
is  exposed  to  view  as  she  twists  the  captured  coil  into  a  crown 
on  the  summit  of  her  small  head,  displays  an  ivory  skin — 
not  dead  white,  but  faintly  golden,  with  amber  reflections 
in  the  sunlight.  The  rusty-headed  little  girl — a  mere  five- 
year-old  morsel  this,  of  transient  sensations  and  emotions — 
that  clings  round  her  knees  and  clamours  to  be  taken  on 
her  back,  is  evidently  her  sister,  yet  the  different  character 
of  this  small  being's  face  is  already  clearly  defined.  Her 
eyes,  that  have  not  yet  lost  their  native  look  of  baby  won- 
derment, yellow-brown  in  hue,  with  ambulant,  rust-coloured 
specks  floating  in  the  iris,  have  individual  potentialities  of 
their  own.  If  there  is  gipsy  blood  here,  it  is  less  evident 
than  in  the  case  of  the  elder  sister. 

The  swarthy-cheeked  boy  is  not  allowed  to  stand  on  his 
head  for  long.  A  little  girl,  apparently  about  his  own  age, 
with  an  odd  resemblance  to  him  in  build  and  feature — all 
the  odder  that,  where  he  is  dark  and  sun-burned,  she  is  fair 
and  sunburned — has  run  against  his  legs  and  thrust  him 
over  with  a  vigorous  push ;  for  an  instant  he  lies  kicking 
and  indignant  on  his  back  in  the  straw,  then,  springing  to 
his  feet,  turns  upon  her  with  his  dark  eyes  aflame. 

"  What  did  you  do  that  for  ?  "  he  cries  angrily  ;  but  see- 


INTRODUCTION.  3 

ing  who  it  is,  his  voice  grows  milder.  "You  shouldn't, 
Mamy  ;  I'd  just  counted  up  to  ten,  when  you  came  and 
spoiled  it  all." 

"  It's  a  stupid  game  ! "  said  Mamy,  the  fair  little  girl ; 
"  only  one  can  play  at  it.  Let's  race  bundles,  Dick  ;  Eila 
can  pack  us  up." 

"  All  right,  then,"  assented  the  boy ;  "  only  we  must 
begin  at  the  top,  you  know,  and  start  fair,  mind." 

"  I  always  start  fair  !  "  said  Mamy  indignantly.  "  I  wait 
all  through  '  Bell-horses,'  till  it  comes  to  '  One,  two,  three 
and  away,'  and  I  don't  begin  till  it's  '  away  !  '  " 

Mamy  was  toiling  after  her  brother  up  the  hill  as  slie 
uttered  this  protest.  Ari'ived  at  the  summit,  the  two  chil- 
di'en  tvmibled  into  a  sitting  posture  under  a  giant  elderberry 
hedge,  whence  they  proceeded  to  send  down  loud  and  im- 
perative "  cooees  "  to  their  elder  sister  below,  with  a  sum- 
mons to  come  and  make  them  up  into  hay-bundles  that 
minute. 

"  S'posing  we  got  some  strawberries  first,"  said  Dick, 
the  boy. 

"  No,"  replied  Mamy  ;  "  it's  nicer  " — I'm  afraid  she  said 
"  ith  nither,"  for  she  kept  her  lisp  almost  as  long  as  she 
wore  short  frocks—"  to  eat  them  when  we've  done.  I  don't 
know  why  it's  always  nicer  to  wait  for  things." 

"  It  isn't  always  nicer,"  was  Dick's  prompt  answer.  "  If 
you've  got  to  wait  too  long,  you  don't  care  about  them  in 
the  end." 

"  Well,  there's  just  a  nice  time  to  wait — I  mean,  till  you 
want  them  very  badly,"  said  Mamy  argumentative! y.  Ab- 
stract arguments  were  as  the  salt  of  life  to  every  member  of 
the  Clare  family  with  one  exception  from  the  cradle  up- 
wards. "  I  wish  Eila  would  hiirry  vip ! "  she  continued ;  "  I 
see  Willie  coming  up  the  road  down  there  with  a  gi'eat  hor- 
rid boy,  and  we  can't  enjoy  ourselves  one  bit  now." 

"  He  won't  matter  to  you,"  said  Dick  stolidly.  "  We 
needn't  take  any  notice  of  him  ; "  and  the  "  cooees  "  were 
reiterated  with  renewed  energy,  and  a  carrying  power 
worthy  of  an  Australian  black  fellow  himself. 

"  I'm  coming,  you  little  monkeys  ! "  cried  a  breathless 


4  NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

voice  from  below  ;  "  you  needn't  bring  the  neighbourhood 
together  with  your  '  cooees.'  "  And  Eila,  with  the  rusty- 
haired  little  one  clinging  crablike  to  her  back,  and  squeezing 
her  neck  in  a  childish  and  merciless  grasp,  was  seen  tugging 
bravely  up  over  the  yellow  stubble,  which  is  not  pleasant 
walking  at  the  best  of  times — less  than  ever  when  one  is 
handicapped  by  a  burden  from  behind,  apparently  bent  wgon 
pulling  a  body  over  backwards. 

When  she  had  reached  the  summit  of  the  hill,  Eila 
freed  her  neck  from  the  encircling  grasp  of  the  childish 
fingers,  and  gravely  mopped  her  forehead  with  her  handker- 
chief. 

"  I'm  streaming,"  she  said  shoi'tly.  "  Truca,  you're  really 
getting  too  heavy  to  be  carried  about,  you  know  ;  it's  cruelty 
to  animals,  that's  what  it  is.  Well,  what  do  you  children 
want  ?     I  can't  do  anything  till  I've  had  a  rest." 

Then,  shaking  off  the  little  one,  who  slid  down  cool  and 
triumj)hant  upon  her  feet,  she  flung  herself  down  upon  the 
grassy  soil  and  fanned  herself  with  her  hat. 

"  Make  us  into  bundles,"  clamoured  Dick  and  Mamy 
together ;  "  we're  goin'  to  have  a  bundle-race." 

"  Then  you  must  get  the  hay.  You  don't  suppose  I'm 
going  after  the  hay  for  you,  do  you  ?  " 

The  words  were  tart,  but  the  voice  was  honey  itself.  To 
be  "  fetch  and  carry  "  to  the  little  ones  of  the  family  had 
seemed  such  a  sweet  and  natural  function  to  Eila  Clare  from 
the  first  moment  that  the  marvellous  and  heavenly  gift  of  a 
twin  baby  brother  and  sister  had  been  conferred  upon  her  in 
her  childish  days,  that  she  never  thought  of  revolting  at 
their  commands.  Only  of  late  years  their  authority  had 
been  weakened  by  the  advent  of  the  latest  comer,  Trucaninni, 
otherwise  Truca,  who  actually  wielded  the  sceptre  of  she- 
who-must-be-obeyed  in  the  family. 

Dick  grvxmbled,  as  also  did  Mamy,  but  they  went  to  col- 
lect the  hay,  nevertheless.  The  operation  was  assisted,  or 
rather  impeded,  by  Truca,  who  plodded  after  them  and  scat- 
tered the  bundles  they  had-  collected  in  her  attempts  to 
appropriate  an  armful  for  herself.  She  was  rewarded  by 
being  told  that  she  was  a  "  big  gu'l "  and  a  "  little  duck," 


INTRODUCTION.  5 

and  marched  proudly  with  her  wisps  at  the  head  of  the  pro- 
cession. 

The  hay  being  supplied,  Dick  and  Mamy  stretched  them- 
selves upon  it  on  the  ground,  side  by  side,  each  upon  a  sepa- 
rate bundle.  By  dint  of  rolling  their  bodies  round  in  it,  and 
with  the  assistance  of  their  elder  sister,  who  twisted  the  hay 
about  them  with  a  deftness  that  spoke  of  long  practice,  they 
were  speedily  reduced  to  the  appearance  of  two  straw-covered 
champagne  bottles.  Which  end  was  head  and  which  feet 
it  would  have  been  difficult,  however,  to  decide.  The  two 
bundles  lay  long  and  compact  at  the  top  of  the  steep  hill, 
waiting  for  the  signal  which  was  to  start  them  rolling  down- 
wards to  the  bottom.  How  these  living  bundles  contrived 
to  breathe  was  a  problem.  It  is  to  be  surmised  that  the 
space  between  the  wisps  allowed  for  the  ingress  of  a  certain 
amount  of  air. 

There  was  a  long  moment  of  suspense,  during  which  Eila 
busied  hei'self  in  pulling  and  pushing  the  bundles  into  as 
exact  a  line  as  the  inequalities  of  the  soil  would  allow.  She 
had  a  threefold  office  to  fulfil,  to  wit,  that  of  judge,  of  starter, 
and  of  mnpire — a  grave  responsibility,  with  competitors  so 
captiously  critical  as  her  younger  brother  and  sister.  The 
bundles  lay  quite  still  while  they  were  being  placed,  and 
when  this  task  was  accomplished,  Eila  knelt  between  them, 
and  began  to  repeat  with  a  chanting  intonation  the  words : 

"  Bell-horses,  bell-horses,  what  time  of  day ; 
One  o'clock,  two  o'clock,  three  and " 

but  before  the  word  "  away "  had  crossed  her  lips  the  biui- 
dles,  which  had  been  already  quivering  with  impatience, 
gave  a  simultaneous  convulsive  jerk  and  began  to  roll  away 
down  the  incline  like  the  cheeses  in  Grimm's  tales.  It  was 
giddy  work  to  watch  them  revolving  from  the  top  of  the 
hill.  Over  they  went,  bumping  and  jolting  on  their  down- 
ward course,  with  an  occasional  rebound  where  the  soil  took 
a  sudden  steepness,  or  when  some  unexpected  descent  had 
given  them  a  fresh  impetus. 

To  Ella's  horror  (she  had  been  laughing  heartily  at  their 
first  set-off),  their  twisting  and  twirling  progress  showed  no 


6  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

sign  of  coming'  to  a  standstill,  even  after  they  had  reached 
the  stretch  of  level  ground  that  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  pad- 
dock. This  comparatively  level  space  terminated  in  an  ab- 
rupt precijjice,  unj)rotected  by  fence  or  hedge  of  any  kind. 
Below  it,  at  a  drop  of  some  eight  or  ten  feet,  was  the  rocky 
road  leading  into  the  town.  Now,  it  was  not  until  the  bun- 
dles had  rolled  themselves  to  within  two  or  three  feet  of  the 
aforesaid  precipice  that  the  contents  thereof  seemed  to  tliink 
it  worth  while  to  slacken  their  speed. 

Seen  from  above,  the  aspect  was  anything  but  reassuring. 
Eila,  unmindful  for  once  of  the  j^rotesting  bawls  of  Truca, 
who  threw  herself  on  her  face  on  the  gTound  and  kicked  her 
fat  legs  in  speechless  fury  at  being  left  behind,  set  off  run- 
ning at  her  topmost  speed  down  the  hill. 

Despite  the  beautiful  legend  of  Atalanta  and  the  exquisite 
embodiments  of  it  that  artists  have  painted,  the  liuman  form 
does  not  lend  itself  to  the  exercise  of  rapid  running  with  the 
same  natural  grace  as  is  displayed  by  any  fourfooted  crea- 
ture of  the  forest.  Nevertheless,  in  the  reckless  course  of  the 
young  girl  down  the  abrupt  decline,  there  was  a  freedom  of 
movement  that  possessed  an  undeniable  grace.  Without 
comparing  her  to  a  stag  or  a  fawn,  it  might  have  been  said 
that  her  pace  had  the  spring  and  elasticity  of  one  of  her  own 
native  kangaroos,  an  animal  which,  as  we  all  know,  will 
hop  and  bound  with  such  a  human  air  that  the  Australian 
natives  will  mimic  its  movements  in  their  turn,  and  succeed 
in  reproducing  them  as  though  to  the  manner  born.  Once 
Eila  had  begun  to  run  down  the  breakneck  declivity,  there 
could  be  no  thought  of  stopping  until  she  reached  the  bot- 
tom. She  did  so  only  just  in  time  to  see  the  two  bundles 
come  to  a  standstill  at  a  nicely-calculated  (though  blood- 
curdling-in-its-proximity)  distance,  as  the  Germans  would 
say,  from  the  edge  of  the  aforementioned  precipice.  The 
bodies  within  were  observed  slowly  to  kick  and  writhe  in 
the  effort  to  fi'ee  themselves  of  their  encircling  wrappings 
of  hay,  like  huge  chrysalides  seeking  to  emerge  from  the 
grvib  stage  of  their  attire.  The  first  choked  words  uttered  by 
both  together  came  from  them  in  hoarse  gasps.  The  words 
were,  "  Who  won  ? " 


INTRODUCTION.  7 

Eila  had  come  up  to  them  by  tliis  time,  and  was  pantin*^ 
too,  though  move  from  emotion  than  fatig-ue.  To  anyone 
less  accustomed  than  she  to  the  order  of  Cowa  pastimes,  the 
twins  would  have  appeared  pitiable  objects  indeed.  Their 
faces  were  almost  unrecognisable,  swollen  and  bloated  with 
a  heat  past  description.  Wet  strands  of  hair  clung  round 
their  foreheads  and  necks.  Their  entire  persons  were  stuck 
over  with  tags  and  jags  of  dried  grass,  wisps  of  straw,  trails 
of  dead  weeds,  brambles  and  clots  of  earth.  Their  eyes 
were  bloodshot,  and  as  they  feebly  plucked  away  the  hay 
bandages,  sitting  upright  on  the  ground,  they  wriggled  under 
the  pain  inflicted  by  the  straws  on  the  unprotected  parts  of 
their  bodies. 

Mamy  was  the  first  to  recover  her  voice.  She  spoke 
wheezily,  and,  between  sneezing  and  lisping,  would  not  have 
made  herself  understood  to  any  but  a  long-practised  member 
of  the  family. 

"  Wathn't  it  a  good  race  ? "  she  gasped  enthusiastically. 
"  It  wath  neck  and  neck  " — sneeze,  sneeze — "  I  don't  believe 
we  ever  had  such  a  good  one  in  all  our  lives !  And  I'm  sure 
I  won,  too.  I  didn't  only  stop  till  I  was  right  close  up  to 
the  edge." 

"No,  you  didn't  win,  then!"  croaked  Dick  hoarsely, 
sneezing  in  his  turn.  "Why,  you  came  bump  up  against 
me  from  behind,  so  that  shows  I  was  on  in  front.  My  word, 
but  these  straws  are  a  caution !  I  believe  I've  got  one  in 
my  eye,  for  I  can't  open  it  one  bit.  I  say,  Eila,  you're  um- 
pire "—blinking  up  at  her  eagerly — "  didn't  I  win  the  race 
now,  say  ? " 

"  I  don't  care  who  won ;  you're  little  wretches,  both  ! " 
said  Eila,  with  a  half -sob  in  her  voice ;  for  she  had  been 
really  frightened  this  time.  "I'll  never  do  you  up  again 
either,  so  there !  What  did  you  go  near  the  edge  for  like 
that  ?  Don't  you  know  that  in  one  minute  more  you'd  have 
been  over  the  precipice,  and  both  your  necks  broken  !  " 

The  children  were  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  they 
looked  at  each  other  and  laughed,  and  Dick  said  : 

"  Don't  fluff,  Eila ;  I  always  know  just  when  I've  got  to 
stop,  and  Mamy,  too." 


8  NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

"It's  the  last  time  I'll  have  a  hand  in  it,  anyhow!"  de- 
clared Eila. 

Mamy  meanwhile  had  been  shaking-  and  pluming  herself 
into  some  semblance  of  her  former  round-limbed  self.  Now 
she  said  reflectively : 

"I  s'pose  breaking  necks  doesn't  hurt  too  awfully  much. 
If  Dick's  and  mine  was  broken  together  it  would  be  nicer 
for  us  than  going  up  to  heaven  alone." 

"  Nonsense ! "  said  her  sister ;  "  you  needn't  think  of  going 
to  heaven  yet,  either  alone  or  in  company,  Mamy."  For  to 
guard  the  younger  ones  against  the  intrusion  of  the  terrify- 
ing apprehension  of  death  had  been  Eila's  constant  care  ever 
since  she  had  stood,  a  little  creature  of  ten,  by  the  side  of  her 
father's  dead  body,  and  the  fu"st  awful  dawning  conscious- 
ness of  the  black  chasm  that  yawns  before  and  behind  us 
had  well-nigh  crushed  her  under  its  weight.  "  You've  got 
to  go  on  doing  lots  of  happy  things  till  you're  an  old  woman, 
and  then  there'll  be  newer  and  better  things  to  do  up  above." 

"  I  don't  care,"  said  Mamy,  her  voice  trembling,  and  this 
time  it  was  not  from  the  straw-dust  she  had  swallowed.  "1 
won't  ever  care  to  go  by  myself.  I  don't  think  it's  at  all  a 
good  arrangement.  I'd  like  you,  and  mother,  and  Dick,  and 
me,  and  all  of  us,  to  have  a  big  fiery  chariot  like  Elijah's  to 
go  right  up  to  heaven  in  together.  I'd  like  it  to  be  just  like 
Mrs.  Warden's  double-seated  buggy;  then  there'd  be  plenty 
of  room — only  not  too  hot,  or  we  might  all  get  burned." 

"  I  don't  want  to  go  to  heaven,  anyhow,"  observed  Dick ; 
he  was  lying  upon  his  back  looking  up  at  the  blue  mist  over- 
head. "  I  don't  want  to  go  anywhere.  I  wish  I'd  never  been 
made  at  all." 

"  Oh,  Dick  dear !  why  do  you  say  that  ? "  said  his  elder 
sister  reproachfully.  "I'm  sure  you  have  a  good  time  of  it 
nearly  always." 

"No,  I  don't — not  when  I'm  thinking!"  retorted  Dick. 
"  I  think,  and  I  think,  and  I  wonder  how  the  world's  going 
to  be  stopped.  I  don't  want  it  to  go  on  always.  I  can't  bear 
to  think  of  things  going  on  always.  It  makes  me  hate  to  be 
alive  at  all.     I  do  wish  people  hadn't  got  to  be  born." 

"  Dear ! "  said  Eila  soothingly,  and  she  stooped  to  pass  her 


INTRODUCTION.  9 

soft  sunburnt  hand  through  the  lad's  damp  hair.  "  I  used  to 
have  just  that  kind  of  feeling;  it  used  nearly  to  di'ive  me 
mad ;  and  now  I  know  the  only  thing  to  do  is  to  say  this : 
"We  haven't  got  brains  to  understand  the  puzzle  now.  Per- 
haps we  may  have  a  different  kind  of  brain  some  day — some- 
where— in  some  other  world."  That's  the  best  to  hope  for. 
And  in  the  meantime,  there's  so  much  else  to  think  about 
here ;  one  keeps  finding  out  nice,  new,  interesting  things 
every  day." 

Dick  grunted,  but  whether  in  assent  or  dissent  his  sister 
could  not  say.  The  metaphysical  turn  the  conversation  liad 
threatened  to  take  was  brusquely  diverted  by  the  advent  of 
two  lads  of  the  approved  schoolboy  type.  The  one,  a  year 
or  two  younger  than  Eila,  bore  the  unmistakable  Clare 
stamp.  There  is  nothing  more  subtle  than  the  quality  of 
family  resemblance  which  is  often  seen  to  exist  among  peo- 
ple who  have  not  a  single  feature  in  common.  Willie  Clare 
was  by  common  accord  a  plain  boy.  He  was  heavy-featured 
and  thick-lipped,  and  his  eyes  lacked  the  lustrous  charm 
that  distinguished  his  brother's.  No  one  would  have  be- 
stowed a  second  look  vqyon  Willie,  whereas  Dick's  personal- 
ity compelled  a  closer  scrutiny.  Yet  in  any  part  of  Hobart 
where  he  might  preseiit  himself,  those  who  had  seen  either 
his  mother  or  sisters  or  brother  would  say,  "  You  are  one  of 
the  Clares,  I  expect,"  or,  "  You  live  up  on  the  hill,  don't 
you  ? "  as  the  case  might  be.  Willie  was,  in  fact,  a  kind  of 
joint  reproduction  of  the  rest  in  whatever  they  possessed  of 
least  handsome.  Perhaps  he  had  aijpropriated  even  a  larger 
share  of  the  very  scant  stock  of  practical  wisdom  they  could 
boast  of  collectively,  for  he  was  the  only  one  who  eschewed 
the  metaphysical  discussions  in  which  they  indulged,  from 
their  mother  downwards,  upon  the  faintest  provocation. 
Child  as  he  was,  he  had  been  able  to  turn  the  garden,  the 
hay -paddock,  and  the  live  stock  of  Cowa  to  account :  and 
while  Dick  and  Mamy  were  fleeing  to  the  farthest  end  of 
the  garden  or  paddock,  tearfully  and  hysterically  declaim- 
ing against  the  "  beastly  cruelty  "  of  "  killing  the  poor  dar- 
ling little  baby  pigs  to  eat  them,"  he  would  stick  a  juvenile 
porker  with  the  utmost  coolness  and  neat-handedness,  liav- 


10  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

ing  abstained  from  undertaking  the  operation  until  he  had 
thoroughly"  mastered  it  in  theory,  as  well  as  by  watching  the 
butcher  at  work. 

The  lad  who  accomj)anied  him  was  obviously  of  a  differ- 
ent stock.  If  Nature  had  not  sucli  infinite  resources  at  her 
command,  she  would  be  sorely  tasked  to  give  variety  to  the 
type  of  ordinaiy  British  or  colonial  born  school-boy  be- 
tween the  unpromising  ages  of  ten  and  fifteen.  Willie 
Clare's  companion  was  so  complete  an  incarnation  of  the 
everyday  order  of  stui'dy,  pugnacious,  stolid-looking  lad, 
that  you  might  have  supposed  you  had  encountered  him  a 
hundred  times  a  day,  when  you  were  actually  doing  so  for 
the  first  time.  He  was  thick-set ;  and,  notwithstanding  the 
fact  that  his  clothes  were  infinitely  newer  and  better  than  those 
of  any  member  of  the  Clare  family,  they  were  far  from  set- 
ting round  him  in  the  same  shapely  way  as  theirs.  His  hair 
grew  low  on  a  square  forehead,  whence  it  stood  straight  up 
in  a  kind  of  rough  brush.  His  gray  eyes  were  not  without 
a  lurking  sj^irit  of  fun  in  them,  though  the  jaw  was  heavy 
and  the  impression  conveyed  by  the  face  in  repose  rather 
sulky  than  conciliatory.  You  would  have  guessed  at  once 
that  Sydney  Warden  was  not  afflicted  by  hypersensitive- 
ness,  or  mox-bid  selfconsciousness,  or  shocks  of  perplexed 
anguish  on  the  score  of  the  mystery  of  being,  as  was  the 
case  with  Dick  Clare. 

His  face  wore  an  interested  and  amused  expression  as  he 
watched  the  progress  of  tlie  living  hay-bundles  down  the 
hill  while  walking  by  Willie's  side  along  the  road  below. 
Though  the  way  from  the  town  was  very  steep,  and  the 
afternoon  of  the  kind  familiarly  designated  as  blazing  hot, 
both  boys  quickened  their  speed  as  they  neared  the  paddock, 
spurred  on  by  their  sympathy  for  the  sport  that  was  going 
on  there.  A  few  rough  blocks  of  stone  at  the  corner  served 
as  stepping-stones,  by  which  tliey  were  enabled  to  climb 
into  it,  and,  once  arrived,  they  hurried  on  towards  the  scene 
of  action. 

The  party  grouped  at  the  bottom  of  the  paddock  took, 
however,  but  little  notice  of  them.  Dick  and  Mamy  had 
been  cooling  themselves,  and  talking  about  heaven.     More- 


INTRODUCTION.  H 

over,  Mamy's  attitude  towards  strange  boys  was  capricious. 
She  was  so  completely  Dick's  double  in  everything  that  she 
felt  it  as  a  bitter  grievance  when  he  played  by  himself  with 
some  school-companion  of  Willie's  who  had  come  to  spend 
the  afternoon  at  Cowa  without  inviting  her  to  share  in  the 
game.  Admitted  to  take  part  in  the  sport  (and  there  were 
few  boys'  games  in  which  Maniy  could  not  hold  lier  own), 
she  was  not  averse  to  the  occasional  society  of  her  brothers' 
friends.  But  her  preference  was  for  big  boys,  not  for  shoi-t 
ones,  and  whether  because  Sydney's  legs  were  not  long 
enough  to  allow  of  his  being  included  in  the  former  cate- 
gory, or  that  Mamy,  besides  being  a  romp,  was  also  a  prema- 
ture coquette,  and  wanted  to  attract  the  newcomer's  atten- 
tion, it  is  certain  that  as  Sydney  approached  she  looked 
studiously  in  another  direction,  even  turning  her  back  vipon 
him,  and  feigning  to  have  no  more  absorbing  interest  in 
life  than  the  picking  out  of  the  grass-seeds  that  had  stuck 
fast  in  her  socks. 

Eila's  demeanour  was  quite  different.  She  could  behave 
upon  occasion  like  a  big,  gTown-up  person,  as  the  children 
called  it — though  her  romping  powers  were  almost  equal  to 
theirs — and  upon  seeing  that  the  new  arrival  looked  awk- 
ward and  shy,  she  put  him  at  his  ease  by  the  friendly  way 
in  which  she  shook  hands  with  him  and  made  him  welcome 
to  Cowa. 

"I  know  you  are  Sydney  Warden,"  she  said;  "Willie 
told  us  you  would  perhaps  come  back  with  him  some  after- 
noon. But  it  must  have  been  dreadfully  hot  walking  up 
from  town.  We'll  go  and  get  some  strawberries,  or  do  you 
like  strawberries  and  cream  better  ?  We  have  them  out 
here  in  the  hay,  and  it's  such  fun.  Did  you  see  the  great 
bundle-race  from  below  ? " 

Sydney  said  "Yes"  in  a  tongue-tied  kind  of  way,  and 
stared  helplessly  across  at  the  competitors  sitting  in  the  hay. 
They  still  looked  as  though  they  had  been  dragged  at  a 
cart's  tail,  like  criminals  in  olden  times,  though  their  ex- 
pi-essions  were  serene.  Dick  nodded  condescendingly ;  Mamy 
continued  to  pick  the  grass-seeds  from  her  socks,  until  her 
brother  gave  her  a  sideway  nudge. 
2 


12  NOT   COUNTING   THE   COST. 

"Don't  show  off,  Mamy ! "  lie  whispered ;  "it's  silly.  You 
know  somebody's  there." 

"  I'm  not  showing-  off,"  said  Mamy  indignantly.  "  I've 
got  my  own  business  to  attend  to." 

And  attend  to  it  she  did,  without  any  sign  of  relenting. 
She  took  off  her  shoe,  shook  out  the  straws,  examined  it 
closely,  then  put  it  on  again,  and  subjected  her  second  shoe 
to  the  same  ti*eatment,  keeping  her  bright  covered  head  ob- 
stinately bent  down  the  whole  time,  resolutely  ignoring  the 
presence  of  outsiders.  Only  once  she  cast  a  sideway  glance 
at  the  stranger  boy.  She  lowered  her  eyes  again,  however, 
immediately.  There  was  a  gleam  of  mocking  merriment  in 
them. 

"  I  wish  you  two  would  have  a  race  again ! "  said  Sydney 
to  Dick,  after  the  Ih'st  antagonistic  shyness  had  worn  off ; 
"  it's  the  best  lark  in  the  world  to  see  you  spinning  round 
and  round.  Only  you  ought  to  begin  right  up  at  the  top, 
where  that  little  girl's  screeching  over  there." 

"  It's  j)oor  dear  little  True  ! "  said  Eila,  with  self-reproach  ; 
and  "  Eila's  coming,  darling ! "  she  shouted,  as  she  sjjrang  up 
the  paddock  towards  her  tyrant. 

Mamy  had  condescended  to  raise  her  head  by  this  time, 
and  to  display  her  defiant  and  tumbled  little  visage,  and 
Dick  asked  her  whether  she  was  "on"  for  another  race. 
Divided  between  the  fear  of  being  left  out  of  the  game,  and 
a  certain  reluctance  to  give  her  consent  too  cheaply,  she 
sought  to  compromise  matters  by  suggesting  that "  the  boy  " 
and  Willie  should  have  a  first  turn.  By  some  unexplained 
caprice,  she  continued  to  ignore  Sydney's  presence,  only 
alluding  to  him  loftily  as  "  the  boy,"  while  she  addressed 
herself  ostentatiously  to  Dick. 

"  We'll  have  a  four-bundle  race  !  That'll  be  better  fun ! " 
urged  Willie ;  for  Sydney,  upon  whose  not  otherwise  lively 
imagination  the  attractive  novelty  of  the  entertainment  had 
exercised  an  irresistible  and  all-j)Owerful  fascination,  will- 
ingly agreed,  and  the  four  chilch-en  plodded  in  company  up 
the  steep,  j^rickly,  slippery  stubble,  only  stopping  occasion- 
ally to  roll  over  a  haycock,  or  to  chase  each  other  round  it, 
before  tumbling  breathless  into  the  midst. 


INTRODUCTION.  13 

The  scene  around  them  was  such  as  might  have  gladdened 
the  heart  of  a  painter,  but  none  of  the  children  thought  of 
directing  their  observation  to  it.  They  had  been  born  under 
the  shadow  of  Mount  Wellington,  and  consulted  him  now 
more  as  a  kind  of  huge  weather-glass  than  from  any  aesthetic 
appreciation  of  his  venerable  beauties.  According  to  the 
aspect  he  wore  ;in  the  morning,  they  built  their  hopes  upon 
the  day  before  them.  When  he  appeared  arrayed,  like  a 
monarch,  in  royal  purple,  with  his  giant  crown  well  out- 
lined against  the  shining  expanse  of  blue  that  canopied  him, 
they  felt  that  the  heavens  would  smile  upon  them.  When, 
on  the  other  hand,  he  sulked  behind  the  cloud-wreaths,  or 
showed  himself  grudgingly  under  rags  and  tags  of  Avet  mist, 
they  got  out  their  umbrellas  and  waterproofs.  For  what 
other  motive  should  the  Tasmanians  to-day  question  him  ? 
He  has  no  legends  of  mediaeval  days  to  recount,  though,  for 
all  we  know  to  the  contrary,  he  may  have  a  thousand  tales 
as  wonderfvil  and  dramatic  as  any  of  these  locked  up  in  his 
-gloomy  fastnesses.  He  has  seen  a  primitive  race  swept  from 
the  face  of  the  earth,  goaded  convicts  hiding  like  rats  in 
holes  and  caves,  and  runaway  prisoners  hunted  to  their 
doom.  He  has  seen  fugitives,  lost  in  his  mysterious  hol- 
lows, wander  round  and  round  in  delirious  circles,  until 
they  have  fallen  to  rise  no  more.  He  has  witnessed  many 
an  act  of  life's  comedy  played  out  besides,  unknown  to  all. 
He  has  seen  flirtations,  and  proposals,  and  betrothals — 
episodes  less  easy  than  these  to  put  into  words,  though 
French  romance  writers  do  not  hesitate  to  fill  long  chapters 
about  them.  He  knows  more  secrets  than  many  a  human 
father  confessor,  though  he  keeps  his  counsel,  like  a  grim 
old  guardian  of  public  interests  that  he  is.  An  occasional 
hint  concerning  the  weather  is  all  that  can  be  extorted  from 
him  to-day.  He  has  outlived  his  own  boiling,  seething 
youth,  as  may  be  seen  by  the  scars  he  bears  on  his  surface, 
and  knows  that  men  are  but  as  the  grass  that  springs  up  in 
the  night-time,  and  is  cut  down  in  the  morning. 

To-day,  like  an  ancient  patriarch  who  sees  his  children 
playing  at  his  feet,  Mount  Wellington  wore  a  benignant 
smile.    Unconsciously  to  themselves,  he  was  an  element  of 


14  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

happiness  in  the  lives  of  the  inmates  of  Cowa.  Upon  July 
days  they  had  seen  him  robed  to  liis  base  in  a  surplice  of 
sparkling  snow.  There  were  summer  sunsets  in  January 
when  he  glowed  like  a  huge  ruby.  His  normal  hue  ranged 
from  cold  gray  to  warm  purple.  Upon  the  days  when  he 
was  hidden  altogether  the  children  were  ill  at  ease.  It  was 
as  though  a  dark  shadow  had  suddenly  descended  on  their 
lives. 

Race  number  two  required  longer  inaugural  ceremonies 
than  the  first.  To  begin  with,  Eila,  who  had  retracted  her 
threat  never  to  do  up  the  culprits  again,  upon  the  condition 
that  the  bundles  should  start  themselves  after  she  had  been 
given  time  to  get  to  the  bottom  of  the  hill  with  Truca,  and 
to  await  them  there,  had  had  four  packages  instead  of  two 
to  make  up.  She  felt  some  compunction  in  packing  up 
Sydney  Warden.  It  was  evident  that  his  mother  bestowed 
much  thought  and  money  upon  his  clothes.  Then  there 
was  the  whole  descent  to  accomplish  for  a  second  time, 
with  Truca  triumphantly  reinstated  on  her  back,  clinging 
vengefully  tliis  time  like  a  miniature  Old  Man  of  the  Sea. 
Dick,  it  was  arranged,  should  give  the  signal  from  under 
his  swathings  of  hay ;  but,  just  as  Eila  had  anticipated,  he 
gave  it  long  before  she  had  reached  the  bottom  with  her 
load,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  she  had  galloped — as  far 
as  a  two-legged  beast  of  burden  may  be  said  to  gallop — as 
fast  as  ever  she  was  able.  She  was  fain  now  to  skip  out  of 
the  way  of  the  irregularly  rolling  bundles  as  they  revolved 
rapidly  past  her;  worse  still,  she  was  subjected,  as  before, 
to  a  spasm  of  terror  on  behalf  of  the  foremost  of  the  lot, 
which  could  be  none  other  than  the  twins.  This  time  the 
victory  rested  between  Dick  and  the  new-comer,  who  were 
in  an  equally  sorry  plight  as  they  emerged  fi'om  their  wraj)- 
pings.  Each,  however,  loudly  proclaimed  himself  the  win- 
ner; and  when  Eila  reached  the  scene,  and  Willie  and 
Mamy  were  able  to  perceive  what  was  going  on  with  their 
smarting  eyes,  it  had  already  come  to  a  tussle  between  the 
two  disputants,  in  which  each  was  trying  to  convince  the 
other  that  he  was  in  point  of  fact  the  winner  by  the  illog- 
ical argument  of  pulling  him  over  to  the  ground. 


INTRODUCTION.  15 

The  tussle  was  mere  sport  at  first — the  kind  of  wrestling- 
match  in  wlaicli  boys,  like  young  puppies,  engage  almost 
instinctively,  and  without  malice  prepense,  upon  the  shallow- 
est px'etexts ;  but  it  grew  more  earnest  as  each  of  the  com- 
batants discovered  that  he  had  met  his  match,  Dick  was 
lithe  and  sinewy ;  he  seemed  to  have  indiarubber  springs  in 
his  body,  which  made  it  impossible  to  throw  him  right  over. 
Sydney,  for  his  part,  had  weight  and  muscle.  In  vain  Dick 
twisted  round  his  adversary's  body,  like  a  supple  panther 
springing  upon  a  bear.  Sj'dney  opposed  a  dead-weight  re- 
sistance to  all  the  efforts  of  his  adversary.  The  combat  had 
lasted  nearly  two  minutes — a  long  time  when  it  is  con- 
sidered that  the  parties  engaged  in  it  were  well-nigh  breath- 
less at  the  outset ;  and  Willie  advised  them  to  desist.  "  Stop 
that ! "  he  called  out,  w4th  the  assertion  that  Sydney  had 
won  the  race  in  any  case.  Dick  felt  that  he  could  not  hold 
out  any  longer.  He  was  on  the  point  of  sinking  under 
Sydney's  weight,  when  Mamy,  who  had  been  watching  the 
struggle  with  dilated  eyes  and  quivering  lips,  suddenly  and 
unexpectedly  interposed.  Snatching  up  the  first  missile  to 
hand  in  the  shape  of  a  potato  that  had  probably  been 
dropped  from  some  sack  in  the  haycart,  she  flung  it  with 
all  her  might  at  Sydney's  head.  He  saw  the  gesture,  and 
ducked  in  time  to  elude  it.  But  Dick  had  meanw^hile  taken 
advantage  of  the  unguarded  movement,  with  a  sudden  dex- 
terous twist  of  the  foot,  to  throw  his  adversary  off  his  bal- 
ance and  cause  him  to  topple  over  backwards  on  the  ground. 
Dick  went  over  himself,  it  is  true,  clasped  in  his  enemy's 
arms ;  but  he  had  the  satisfaction,  at  least,  of  being  the  top- 
most. Upon  seeing  this  Mamy  stalked  away,  rejoiced  and 
impenitent,  hurling  over  her  shoulder  the  parting  taunt : 
"  I  knew  Dick  wasn't  going  to  be  beaten,  'cause  he  icon  the 
race.'''' 

The  boys  picked  themselves  up  none  the  worse  friends  in 
the  end,  and  no  allusion  was  made  to  the  episode  of  the  po- 
tato. Cui'iously  enough,  however,  the  vision  of  Mamy  \vith 
her  arm  uplifted,  in  the  act  of  hurling,  the  straw  sticking  all 
over  her  head  and  clothes,  was  destined  to  remain  fixed  for 
evermore  in  Sydney's  mind.    He  was  entirely  unawai-e  of 


16  NOT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

the  fact  at  the  time.  Have  we  not  all  a  store  of  mental  pho- 
tographs which  seem  to  have  recorded  themselves  on  our 
brains  with  no  connivance  or  volition  of  our  own  ?  Per- 
haps there  are  moods  during  which  the  mind  is  like  a  sen- 
sitive plate,  so  that  imi^ressions  recorded  on  it  are  never  to 
be  subsequently  effaced.  Many  things  happened  at  Cowa 
that  day  which  Sydney  also  remembered,  for  this  was  the 
first  of  numberless  visits  he  paid  his  friends  on  the  hill. 
For  one  thing,  he  remembered  that  Mamy  had  disappeared 
for  a  very  long  time.  Rude  little  g-irl  as  she  was,  the  play 
had  not  seemed  quife  so  interesting  when  her  eager,  watch- 
ful eyes,  blue  as  the  agate  in  Sydney's  pockets,  under  her 
tousled  hair,  had  been  no  longer  there  to  follow  the  games. 

When  she  returned  Sydney  would  hardly  have  recog- 
nised her.  She  wore  a  clean  holland  blouse  fastened  round 
her  waist  with  a  belt.  Her  face  was  washed  and  seemed  to 
be  very  fair,  and  her  hair,  without  a  particle  of  straw  in  it, 
hung  in  a  stout,  short  plait  behind  her  back,  tied  at  the  end 
with  a  strip  of  blue  ribbon.  She  looked  quite  good,  and  car- 
ried something  that  appeared  lik3  a  white  soup-tureen  care- 
fully in  both  hands,  with  soup-plates  and  spoons  on  the  top 
of  it.  Upon  being  uncovered,  the  soup-tureen  was  found  to 
contain  piles  of  luscious  strawberries  swimming  in  the  thick- 
est and  yellowest  of  cream,  all  ijroperly  sugared  and  mixed. 
In  Sydney's  own  home  there  was  a  professional  cook,  who 
made  such  curries  and  such  triiies  as  no  one  in  Hobart  could 
approach.  Yet  it  seemed  to  him  now  that  all  he  had  eaten 
hitherto  at  his  mother's  table  was  but  as  Dead  Sea  fruit, 
compared  with  the  nectar  and  ambrosia  of  that  first  repast 
in  the  hay  at  Cowa.  It  was  Eila  who  dispensed  it,  sitting 
on  the  haycock  with  Truca  on  her  lap,  and  there  was  more 
than  anyone  could  eat  at  a  time.  The  children  liad  to  get 
up  and  jump  about  before  they  could  finish  what  was  left. 

Then  Eila  told  them  a  story  in  the  hay,  while  they  lay 
on  their  backs  and  stomachs  in  a  state  of  blissful  content- 
ment that  passed  all  description.  Only  yesterday  Sydney 
would  have  scorned  such  a  babyish  amusement  as  that  of 
listening  to  a  girl's  "yarns,"  but  these  were  tales  such  as  he 
had  never  heard  or  imagined  before — boys'  adventures  on 


INTRODUCTION.  17 

desert  islands,  tliat  made  your  hair  tingle  at  the  roots  to 
listen  to;  wonderful  narratives  of  giants  that  you  could  not 
help  believing  from  the  way  in  which  they  were  told.  It 
was  not  in  human  nature  to  resist  sucli  stories  as  these. 

Then,  as  the  sun  began  to  creep  down  behind  the  moun- 
tains, burning  a  hole  through  his  cloudy  curtain  of  purple 
and  gold,  and  whitfs  of  cool  air  blew  inwards  from  the  dark- 
ening harbour,  Mamy  sprang  up  from  her  hay-mound,  and 
climbing  the  railing  into  an  adjoining  paddock  (there  was  a 
gate  a  few  yards  lower,  but  who  would  waste  the  time  in 
opening  a  gate  with  rails  all  ready  to  scramble  over  ?), 
and  pi-oceeded  to  walk  slowly  up  it,  calling  "Coop — coo- 
oop ! "  in  far-reaching,  conciliatory  tones.  Almost  simulta- 
neously a  large  and  a  small  cow,  browsing  at  the  top  of  the 
paddock,  raised  their  heads  and  looked  at  her.  Dick  mean- 
while had  run  to  fetch  the  milking-pail,  and  by  the  time  he 
returned,  the  cows  were  coming  slowly  down  the  hill,  with 
their  heads  swaying  from  right  to  left  from  the  shoulder, 
with  an  indifferent,  not-to-be-hurried  air.  Snow-white,  so 
named  after  the  heroine  of  Grimm's  tales,  on  accoxuit  of  the 
fairness  of  her  hide,  seemed  to  swim  in  an  amber  light,  en- 
veloped in  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun.  Her  companion, 
who  answered  to  the  more  prosaic  name  of  Strawberry,  re- 
flected the  golden  brown  glow  of  autumn  woods.  Both  ani- 
mals came  to  a  halt  when  Mamy  laid  her  hand  upon  them. 
Snow-white,  however,  she  pulled  towards  her  by  the  horns 
and  kissed  upon  the  forehead  before  beginning  to  milk  her. 
There  was  no  milking-stool.  Mamy  knelt  by  the  cows  in 
turn,  with  her  head  leaning  against  their  flanks,  and  talked 
soothingly  to  them  in  cow-language,  as  the  milk  rained  and 
foamed  in  the  pail  under  the  skilful  downward  pressure  of 
her  supple  thumb. 

Sydney  watched  the  operation  with  eyes  of  naive  won- 
derment. Country  scenes  and  sports  Avere  not  unknown  to 
him,  but  of  the  mysteries  of  j)ractical  dairying  he  knew  little 
or  nothing.  His  elder  sister,  Lucy,  was  timid  of  animals, 
and  would  go  specially  in  another  direction  when  out  walk- 
ing with  her  governess,  to  avoid  meeting  the  cows  on  their 
counti'y  estate.    Mamy,  on  the  contrary,  seemed  to  love  them. 


18  NOT  COUNTING   TPIE  COST. 

She  even  contlescencled  to  give  some  explanations  between 
the  intervals  of  milking.  Snow-white,  it  seemed,  had  the 
sweetest  temper,  but  Strawberry  gave  the  richest  milk.  As 
though  to  prove  her  displeasm'e  at  the  slur  cast  upon  her 
cliaracter,  or  to  give  immediate  proof  of  the  justice  of  the 
accusation,  Strawberry  whisked  her  tail  with  a  vicious  move- 
ment as  soon  as  it  was  her  turn  to  be  milked.  The  first 
whisk  was  dexterously  contrived  to  give  Mamy  a  literal  slap 
in  the  face,  and  before  she  had  had  time  to  recover  from  it, 
a  second  whisk  had  scattered  the  milk  over  her  frock.  The 
hardest  part  to  bear  was  the  peal  of  hilarious  laughter  that 
Strawberry's  untoward  conduct  excited  from  the  rest. 

"  How  can  you  encourage  her  in  such  behaviour  ?  "  cried 
Mamy,  turning  round  upon  them  with  a  strenuous  api)eal 
that  was  almost  pathetic  in  its  indignant  earnestness.  There 
was  a  gleam  of  something  like  a  tear  in  her  troubled  blue 
eyes. 

The  others  continued  to  laugh — all  save  Sydney  Warden. 
Sydney  shunned  girls  as  a  rule,  and  Mamy's  first  manner  of 
recognising  him  by  aiming  a  "  spud  "  at  his  head  could 
hardly  be  looked  upon  as  an  inducement  to  make  an  excep- 
tion in  her  favour.  Nevertheless,  it  is  a  fact  that  he  darted 
forward  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  and  laid  valiant  hold 
of  Strawbeny's  offending  tail.  Nay,  though  the  cow,  mor- 
tally afPronted,  made  as  though  she  would  kick  him,  and 
did,  indeed,  partially  succeed  in  boxing  his  ear  with  her  lib- 
erated tail,  he  remained  manfully  at  his  post.  Nor  did  he 
let  go  his  hold  until  Mamy  rose,  flushed  and  triumphant, 
from  her  knees,  with  the  remark  : 

"  She's  as  sulky  as  ever  she  can  be.  She's  been  trying  to 
hold  back  her  milk  all  the  time." 

She  did  not  thank  Sydney  for  his  interposition,  and  it  was 
Oick— not  he— who  helped  her  to  carry  the  pail  up  the  hill. 
The  pair  walked  on  silently  together  in  front,  until  Dick  re- 
marked reflectively  : 

"  I  think  Sydney  Warden's  not  a  bad  sort,  Mamy,  don't 
you  ? " 

Whereat  Mamy,  who  was  chewing  a  straw,  tossed  her 
head  indifferently,  as  much  as  to  say  that  the  subject  was 


INTRODUCTION.  19 

really  one  which  had  no  interest  for  her.  That  Sydney 
sliould  have  been  completely  subjugated  by  her  warlike  atti- 
tude at  the  outset ;  that  her  treatment  of  him  to-day  was  only 
typical  of  the  treatment  she  would  bestow  on  him  in  the  long 
years  to  come ;  that  the  destinies  the  Fates  were  already 
spinning  for  both  out  of  the  nebulous  mass  whence  human 
destinies  are  evolved  had  been  all  foreshadowed  in  the  child- 
ish conflicts  of  the  afternoon — what  could  Mamy  know  or 
dream  of  this  ?  For  her  the  events  of  to-day  were  but  as  the 
sunset  colours  that  stained  the  opiiosite  sky,  and  that  paled 
and  faded  as  she  watched  them.  Nor  was  Sydney  more  con- 
scious than  Mamy  that  his  day's  impressions  were  of  those 
tliat  he  would  never  lose. 

The  entrancing  evening  came  to  an  end  with  tea  on  the 
veranda — a  delightful  and  scrambly  tea,  in  which  hot  scones 
and  eggs,  and  jam  and  dough-cake,  succeeded  each  other  un- 
interruptedly and  abundantly  on  the  same  plates.  The  talk, 
however,  was  of  a  kind  that  Sydney  could  not  always  follow. 
There  was  a  family  vocabulai-y  of  which  he  did  not  as  yet 
possess  the  key,  and  he  was  also  conscious  of  a  vague,  unde- 
fined quality  of  singularity  that  distinguished  the  accents 
and  gestures  of  his  new  friends.  At  a  little  distance  he  would 
have  supposed  them  to  be  talking  another  language — a  lan- 
guage rather  soft  and  nasal,  with  an  occasional  plaintiveness 
in  it  that  was  almost  a  whine.  I  need  not  say  that  these 
opinions  remained  entirely  unformulated  by  him.  If  he  was 
conscious  of  them  at  all,  it  was  only  in  the  guise  of  swift, 
unanalyzed  impressions,  the  analytic  tendency  being  foreign 
to  Sydney's  practical  nature.  He  thought  Mrs.  Clare  as  dif- 
ferent from  other  mothers  as  her  children  were  different 
from  other  children  he  had  met.  If  he  could  have  expressed 
Avhat  he  felt,  he  would  have  said  that  she  did  not  look  to  him 
like  a  mother  at  all.  Her  face  was  small  and  sallow,  and 
the  hair,  lying  smoothly  on  either  side  of  her  narrow  head, 
w^as  of  the  shiniest  blackness  he  had  ever  seen.  Her  equally 
black  eyes,  that  struck  liun  as  being  much  larger  than  ordi- 
nary eyes,  moved  hither  and  thither  as  rapidly  as  a  bird's. 
At  other  moments  they  looked  straight  before  them  at  noth- 
ing.   Under  both  aspects  Sydney  felt  there  was  something 


20  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

curious  about  them.  He  was  reminded  of  an  ayali  who  liad 
come  down  from  India  witli  a  sister  of  liis  mother's  and  her 
baby  to  visit  them  at  Hobart.  He  noticed,  among  other 
tilings,  that  there  was  no  grace  said,  a  ceremony  which  was 
never  dispensed  with  at  his  own  home  teas.  It  was  Eila  who 
seeined  most  bent  upon  keeping  order,  though  lier  attention 
was  much  taken  up  by  Truca,  who  sat  on  a  high  chair  beside 
her ;  also  by  a  large  retriever  dog  that  rested  his  paws  on  the 
back  of  her  chair,  and  thrust  his  head  against  her  neck. 
Below  the  veranda  darkness  was  creeping  up  the  hill.  It 
held  the  town  in  the  hollow,  and  rested  in  a  broad  black 
shadow  upon  the  harbour.  Lights  were  faintly  twinkling 
on  the  opposite  shore;  still  the  family  lingered  over  their 
tea.  Sydney  sat  open-mouthed  among  them  now  that  he 
had  finished  eating.     It  reminded  him  of  being  at  a  play. 

Each  one  seemed  to  him  funnier  than  the  other.  Mamy 
gave  an  inimitable  rendering  of  the  startled  demeanour  of 
an  old  lady  who  had  seen  her  fall  off  the  haystack  unex- 
pectedly the  day  before,  and  Truca  was  made  to  recount  her 
famous  dream,  in  which,  as  appeared  by  her  own  showing, 
she  "  flied "  and  "  fiied "  all  the  time,  "  and  didn't  get  no 
higher  "  than  the  cupboard  in  the  schoolroom. 

Dick  produced  two  of  the  most  beautiful  beetles  in 
bronze-green  armour  ever  seen,  and  made  believe  they  were 
two  explorers,  wandering  over  the  tablecloth,  which  was  the 
sea,  in  search  of  an  enchanted  island,  which  was  the  butter- 
dish. To  stake  impossible  sums  upon  the  port  they  would 
make  for  first  was  a  highly  exciting  game,  though  it  was 
diversified  by  an  argument  between  Dick  and  his  mother 
upon  the  construction  of  beetle-brains,  which  was  too  sug- 
gestive of  his  school-book  upon  physical  science  to  have 
much  interest  or  meaning  for  Sydney. 

By-and-by  a  golden  moon  dispelled  the  darkness.  The 
mounds  in  the  hay-paddock  became  as  silver  thrones,  where- 
on the  children  sat  once  more  in  state.  Only  the  occasional 
alarm  of  a  snake  would  cause  a  wild  and  uncalled-for  stam- 
pede from  time  to  time  on  the  part  of  the  entire  party. 
Sydney  remembered  how  they  had  tried  to  unearth  the 
noisy  crickets  that  snapped  and  whirred  beneath  the  soil,  as 


INTRODUCTION.  21 

though  they  had  been  driving  a  hundred  subterranean  lilli- 
putian  mills ;  and  how  Dick  had  recounted  a  yarn  (for 
surely  it  could  have  been  nothing  hut  a  yarn)  about  some 
little  people  called  earthmen,  or  gnomes,  that  used  to  potter 
underground  in  olden  tinies. 

The  lad  carried  away  more  imx^ressions  from  his  first 
afternoon  at  Cowa  than  he  could  find  place  for  all  together 
in  his  brain.  The  crowning  impression  of  all,  the  one  that 
dominated  every  other,  was  the  vision  of  Mamy  with  her 
outstretched  arm,  in  the  act  of  hurling  the  potato  at  him. 
Supposing  it  had  really  struck  him  on  the  temple  !  It  was 
with  a  smaller  missile  than  a  potato  that  David  had  slain 
the  giant  Goliath.  Sydney  remembered  this  fact,  for  he  was 
better  versed  in  "  Stories  from  the  Bible  "  than  his  friends 
on  the  hill.  Supposing  it  had  struck  him  as  the  pebble 
struck  Goliath,  and  killed  him  dead  on  the  spot !  Would 
Mamy  have  been  sorry  ?  Or  supposing  it  had  only  hurt  him 
a  little,  raised  a  bump,  or  given  him  a  bad  bruise,  would  she 
still  have  been  sorry — a  little  sorry  ?  Then  an  unaccount- 
able regret  that  he  had  dodged  the  blow  at  the  critical  mo- 
ment, and  thus  cut  off  forever  the  possibility  of  knowing 
whether  Mamy  would  have  been  sorry,  was  the  main  effect 
of  the  incident  upon  Sydney's  imagination.  Now,  his  im- 
agination was  not  easily  stimulated,  and  if  the  one  being 
who  had  been  potent  to  work  this  miracle  upon  him  for  the 
first  time  in  his  experience  should  have  been  destined  to 
hold  her  supremacy  over  him  thenceforth  and  forever,  the 
fact  need  cause  no  surprise,  physical  force  led  captive  by 
imagination  being  the  theme  which  has  underlain  myths 
and  fable-lore  from  time  immemorial,  for  all  such  as  have 
sought  to  penetrate  their  hidden  meaning. 


22  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

CHAPTER  I. 

MRS.   frost's  news. 

The  day  had  been  warm,  but  the  unfailinof  sea-breeze, 
borne  in  from  the  great  mysterious  Antarctic  Ocean,  blew 
fresh  and  cold  in  young  Mrs.  Frost's  face  as  she  set  herself 
to  walk  across  the  rugged  slopes  of  Mount  Knocklofty 
towards  the  ivy-covered  cottage  on  the  New  Town  Road 
wherein  old  Mrs.  Frost  had  her  habitation.  Knocklofty  is 
not,  as  its  name  might  seem  to  imply,  an  Irish  mountain, 
but  a  furze  and  bracken  covered  hill  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Hobart,  which  Hobart,  as  everybody  knows,  is  the  chief 
city  of  Tasmania,  and  quite  lovely  enough  and  lonely 
enough  to  have  inspired  a  colonial  Goldsmith  with  a  poem 
in  imitation  of  the  "  Deserted  Village  of  the  Plain,"  with 
the  slight  difference  that  it  should  be  entitled  "  The  Village 
of  the  Mountains"  instead.  Mi"S.  Frost  knew  Knocklofty 
under  all  its  aspects,  and  so  far  custom  had  not  withered  the 
infinite  variety  of  its  charm  in  her  eyes.  She  had  raced 
over  it  like  a  young  colt  in  the  days  when  she  wore  socks 
and  short  frocks,  and  her  defenceless  calves  had  shown  a 
lattice-work  of  multitudinous  scratches  inflicted  by  the 
briars  and  the  gorse.  Some  years  later  she  had  carried  her 
water-colours  on  her  rambling,  or,  to  speak  more  correctly, 
on  her  scrambling  exi^editions  to  its  summit,  and  had  made 
heroic  attempts  to  reproduce  Mount  Wellington  in  a  state 
of  incandescence  at  sunset.  Truth  to  tell,  she  had  antici- 
pated in  this  line  the  achievement  of  certain  impressionist 
painters  of  to-day,  and  had  accomplished  "  plein  air,"  as 
Monsieur  Jourdain  spoke  prose,  without  being  aware  of  it 
herself.  But  for  want  of  guidance,  her  artistic  efforts  re- 
mained at  much  the  same  stage  as  those  she  made  in  many 
another  direction  besides — that  is  to  say,  they  were  sugges- 
tions rather  than  performances. 

On  the  particular  summer  evening  in  the  month  of  Janu- 
ary when  you  encounter  young  Mrs.  Frost  for  the  first  time, 
impressionist  or  even  "  plein  air  "  inspirations  are  far  enough 
from  her  thoughts.     Not  that  the  scene  around  her  is  lack- 


MRS.  FROST'S  NEWS.  23 

ing  in  elements  that  might  furnish  them.  The  distant  hai'- 
bour,  reflecting  the  late  sunset,  wears  a  blood-red  glow,  tliat 
calls  to  mind  one  of  the  most  effective  of  the  many  effective 
plagues  devised  by  Moses  for  the  subduing  of  the  stiff-necked 
Egyptians.  House-tops  and  hill-tops  have  caught  the  rosy 
reflection,  and  for  the  space  of  a  few  minutes  the  landscape 
seems  to  swim  in  an  amber  light.  Young  Mrs.  Frost's  face, 
beautiful  enough  for  all  ordinary  and  superordinaiy  pur- 
poses in  the  garish  light  of  day,  becomes  celestially  trans- 
figured under  its  influence.  Her  silhouette  takes  the  sem- 
blance of  a  silver  outline,  and  her  cheeks  and  forehead  shine 
with  a  wonderful  semi-transparent  softness,  that  shows  what 
a  beautiful  thing  human  flesh  can  be  for  mere  light-reflect- 
ing purposes  alone. 

The  foregoing  phenomenon  is  familiar  to  most  painters. 
It  presented  itself  upon  the  present  occasion  with  the  force 
of  a  new  revelation  to  a  certain  Reginald  or  Mr.  Reginald 
Acton,  who  accidentally,  or  with  malice  prepense,  overtook 
young  Mrs.  Frost  just  as  she  was  hesitating  whether  to  take 
a  long  and  tedious  road  that  led  to  Ivy  Cottage  by  inhabited 
ways  and  protected  paths,  or  a  short  and  devious  cut  (the 
two  qualifications  became  quite  compatible,  whatever  Cow- 
per  may  have  implied  to  the  contrary),  with  the  sanie  end 
in  view. 

"  How  you  startled  me ! "  she  exclaimed,  looking  sharply 
round,  as  she  heai'd  RegiiiakVs  tramping  footstep  behind  her. 
"I'm  too  glad  it's  only  you  !"  and  she  put  out  her  hand. 

"  Yes,  it's  only  me ! "  he  I'eplied  with  a  smile,  as  he  took 
the  ungloved  hand  and  held  it  for  an  instant  in  his  own. 
"  Thanks  for  the  comijliment ;  but  I'm  '  too  glad '  on  my  own 
account  to  have  caught  you  up  at  last,  to  mind.  Now,  where 
are  you  going,  and  which  way  shall  we  take  ? " 

"  I'm  going  to  Ivy  Cottage,  sir  ! "  Tlie  little  grimace  that 
accompanied  the  reply  was  more  eloquent  than  words  could 
have  been.  "  But  don't  pity  me ;  I  believe  it's  for  the  last 
time." 

"  For  the  last  time  ?  Why,  have  you  thrown  your  re- 
spected father  and  mother-in-law  over,  or  have  they  thrown 
you  over  ? " 


24  NOT  COUNTINa  THE  COST. 

"  Not  they,  indeed !  but  haven't  you  heard  the  news  ? 
Did  they  tell  you  nothing  at  Cowa  ?  " 

"  I've  heard  nothing.  I  stopped  at  the  garden-gate  ten 
minutes  ago  to  see  whether  you  were  discoverable ;  and 
your  brother  Dick,  Avho,  by-the-by,  had  no  socks  on,  only  a 
kind  of  patent  sole  strapped  to  his  bare  feet,  told  me  in  his 
usual  superior  way  that  you  had  gone  to  see  your  mother- 
in-law.  He  could  not  tell  me,  though,  which  way  you  had 
taken,  but  I  was  sure  it  would  be  across  the  hill.  So  I 
walked  on  after  you  at  the  rate  of — of " 

"Nineteen  to  the  dozen  !"  interposed  Mrs.  Frost. 

"Ninety-nine  to  the  dozen  would  be  nearer  the  mark. 
Anyhow,  here  I  am.  You  must  have  had  ten  minutes'  start 
of  me  at  least,  and  you  were  going  fast  at  that.  You  are 
not  aware,  I  suppose,  that  you  were  turning  your  back  upon 
one  of  the  finest  harbour-views  ever  known  ? " 

"Was  I  ?     Well,  let's  look  at  it  now." 

"  Yes,  leVs  !  "  he  said,  mimicking  her  with  a  smile. 

"  And  then  I'll  tell  you  the  news ! "  cried  young  Mrs. 
Frost,  "only  I'm  not  at  all  sure  that  it  will  please  you." 

"  Not  please  me !  Then  don't  tell  it  to  me  just  for  a  mo- 
ment. I  want  to  have  a  few  moments  of  perfect  enjoy- 
ment. The  sun  will  have  gone  down  in  anotlier  minute. 
Here !  will  you  have  my  coat  to  sit  upon  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed  I  won't ! "  she  laughed  disdainfully.  "  Why, 
I  spend  most  of  my  time  sitting  out  uj)on  the  ground." 

She  had  suited  her  action  to  her  words,  and  was  already 
plumped  down  after  the  fashion  of  a  born  Australian,  to 
whom  the  ground  or  the  floor  represents  an  ever-available 
resting-place,  while  Reginald  was  considering  how  he  should 
dispose  himself  upon  the  stony  soil  by  her  side. 

"Heine's  a  lovely  place  to  see  it  from,"  she  said.  "I'm 
glad  you  told  me  of  it.  It  is  beautiful !  Couldn't  one  al- 
most be  a  Pai'see,  with  a  sky  like  that  to  worship  ?  I've 
heard  people  talk  about  a  man  not  being  able  to  set  the 
Thames  on  fire,  but  I'm  sure  it  looks  as  though  the  Derwent 
Avere  all  aflame,  doesn't  it  ?  And  what  lovely  little  jags  of 
gold  in  the  clouds  !  " 

As  she  spoke,  the  I'im  of  the  sun,  a  disc  of  buniing  gold, 


MRS.  FROST'S  NEWS.  25 

was  still  visible  above  the  horizon.  A  moment  later  he  liad 
slowly  clroppecl  behind  the  mountains,  sending  up,  as  he 
sank,  shafts  of  brightness  that  seemed  to  slash  the  sky  with 
colour.  Young  Mrs.  Frost  "fetched  a  sigh,"  as  our  great- 
grandparents  would  have  said,  and  turned  her  illumined 
face  towards  her  companion. 

Reginald's  "few  moment's  of  perfect  enjoyment"  were 
plainly  written  upon  his  countenance.  His  was  a  face  that 
miglit  have  belonged  to  an  inhabitant  of  the  fabled  Palace 
of  Trutli,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  he  had  been  through 
the  usual  training  which  enjoins  the  civilized  man  to  hide 
his  emotions  from  the  world.  It  was  of  a  blonde  hue,  upon 
which,  as  upon  an  ivory  tablet,  all  that  recorded  itself  might 
be  read  by  those  who  ran.  His  eyes  were  of  the  good  honest 
blue  often  to  be  seen  in  the  eyes  of  Norwegian  sailors,  and 
when  he  was  troubled,  they  had  a  suffused  look  that  would 
have  been  very  touching  to  a  mother  or  a  woman  friend. 
The  cut  of  his  features  was  far  from  being  classic.  There 
was  a  curious  scoop  in  the  bridge  of  the  nose  that  gave  some- 
thing of  a  bovine  suggestion  to  the  profile.  The  front  view, 
however,  displaying  the  pleasant  trusting  eyes,  the  broad  tip 
of  a  sun-burned  nose,  and  the  well-disciplined  profusion  of 
close-cut  whisker,  beard  and  moustaclie,  that  concealed  all 
the  lower  part  of  the  face,  never  failed  to  impress  the  spec- 
tator agreeably.  It  was  doubtful  whether  young  Mrs.  Frost 
had  ever  thought  of  judging  it  critically.  Reginald  was 
"nice  "  (and  this  is  the  paramount  consideration  from  a  femi- 
nine point  of  view),  and  he  always  looked  nice,  under  what- 
ever circumstances  he  might  be  encountered.  Besides  which, 
she  had  perhaps  fewer  opportunities  for  judging  him  impar- 
tially than  other  people,  seeing  that,  unconsciously  to  him- 
self, his  whole  being  was  quickened — in  flie  Scriptural  sense 
of  the  word— in  her  presence.  He  had  been  her  friend  and 
almost  her  confidant  for  more  than  a  year ;  he  had  not  been 
in  Tasmania  more  than  eighteen  months  himself ;  and  the 
difference  of  age  between  them,  some  twelve  or  fifteen  years, 
coupled  with  the  fact  that  he  had  seen  so  much  of  the  world 
in  his  naval  officer  days,  inclined  her  to  pay  more  heed  to 
his  counsels  than  she  was  apt  to  bestow  upon  those  of  most 


26  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

other  people  who  were  rash  enough  to  offer  them.  The  dif- 
ficulty of  young-  Mrs.  Frost's  position  (and  the  sequel  will 
show  how  really  difficult  it  was)  inclined  her  to  resent  the 
well-meant  advice  tliat  was  proffered  to  her. 

"  What  is  the  use  of  their  talking-  so  ?  "  she  would  say  to 
herself  impatiently.  "  I  get  more  help  out  of  a  page  of  Her- 
bert Spencer  than  out  of  all  the  sermons  they  can  preach  in 
a  week." 

The  "  they  "  referred  in  this  instance  to  father-in-law, 
mother-in-law,  friends  and  acquaintances  generally,  for  as 
far  as  her  own  brothers  and  sisters  were  concerned,  live 
and  let  live  was  too  instinctive  a  principle  among  them  to 
allow  of  their  assuming  a  critical  attitude  towards  her, 
unless  their  own  plans  were  directly  encompassed  by 
hers. 

The  gold  was  fading  out  of  the  clouds  before  young  Mrs. 
Frost  broke  the  silence  again.  Possibly  she  was  loath  to 
drive  the  radiant  reflection  from  her  companion's  eyes  until 
his  few  moments  of  enjoyment  were  well  counted.  She 
waited  until  he  turned  his  glance  expectantly  towards  her. 
He  was  half  sitting,  half  reclining  by  her  side,  with  his  el- 
bow propped  up  on  a  corner  of  her  faded  blue  cotton  frock 
spread  around  her  as  she  sat. 

"  Well  ? "  he  said  interrogatively,  and  the  smile  that 
accompanied  the  interrogation  spoke  of  the  entire  sense  of 
well-being  and  freedom  from  all  constraint  he  felt  in  her 
presence.     "  Well  ?  " 

"  Well  ?  "  she  replied  hesitatingly. 

She  had  picked  up  some  dried  wattle  twigs  from  the 
ground,  and  was  sorting  them  on  her  lap  as  a  pretext  for  not 
looking  at  him. 

"  You  know  I  warned  you  that  it  was  news  you  would 
not  approve  of.  It  is  only  this,  that  we  are  thinking  of  go- 
ing home." 

Reginald  stai'ted  up.  He  did  not  answer  immediately. 
His  face  contracted  into  an  expression  of  pained  bewildei"- 
ment. 

"  Home,  you  say  ?  Wliat  do  you  mean  ?  What  home 
are  you  speaking  of  ?  " 


MRS.   FROST'S  NEWS.  27 

"Why,  Home  with  a  capital  'H,'  of  course.  England — 
Europe,  that  is  to  say.     What  other  home  is  there  ?  " 

Her  companion  did  not  answer.  Even  the  exclamation 
of  surprise  that  she  was  waiting  for  found  no  utterance. 
In  very  truth  the  light  that  was  fading  so  slowly  from  the 
sky  seemed  to  have  passed  in  one  liglitning  flash  from  his 
life.  He  could  not  have  spoken  at  this  moment,  feeling 
stunned  by  the  announcement,  as  by  a  blow.  He  had  some- 
times fancied,  notwithstanding  the  impassable  gulf  that 
separated  him  from  this  woman  by  his  side,  that  she  had 
measured  his  love  for  her  in  her  secret  heart ;  that  she  had 
silently  divined  its  sti'ength,  its  depth,  its  boundlessness; 
nay,  that  she  had  even  made  a  shrine  for  it  in  the  inmost 
recesses  of  her  soul,  where  none  could  see  or  penetrate.  And 
now,  like  a  child  that  crushes  a  butterfly  for  very  wanton- 
ness, she  had  crushed  this  blessed  trust  of  his  with  a  word. 
He  was  sure,  though  his  eyes  were  turned  seaward,  away 
from  hers,  that  a  half-triumphant  smile  was  hovering  on 
her  lips.  He  could  detect  it  without  looking  at  her,  in  the 
very  sound  of  her  voice.  She  had  been  waiting  pitilessly 
and  cruelly  to  produce  her  effect,  while  he,  poor  fool !  had 
been  thinking,  in  the  words  of  Longfellow,  "Oh,  what  a 
gloiy  doth  this  world  put  on  !  "  for  the  sole  reason  that  it 
was  with  her  that  he  was  looking  forth  upon  the  sunset  this 
evening. 

Her  voice  had  always  possessed  an  especial  charm  for 
him.  It  was  one  of  those  voices  set  in  a  flexible  treble  key 
that  vibrate  to  fun  and  pathos  at  an  instant's  notice.  It  had 
been  the  most  tuneful  voice  hitherto,  to  his  thinking,  that 
he  had  ever  heard ;  but  now,  for  the  first  time,  it  rang  falsely 
upon  his  ear.  Surely  she  could  not  have  required  the  spoken 
assurance  that  he  cared  for  her.  Was  not  his  very  silence 
the  best  proof  of  it  he  could  give  her,  seeing  how  she  was 
situated  ?  What  had  he  ever  asked  beyond  the  privilege  of 
serving  her  with  a  dog-like  devotion  ?  And  this  was  his  re- 
ward. This  was  the  way  in  which  she  recompensed  him. 
She  had  brought  him  out  this  evening  (he  forgot  in  hi'S 
bitterness  that  he  had  followed  her  of  his  own  accord)  only 
to  tell  him,  as  though  it  were  the  most  indifferent  piece  of 
3 


28  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

gossip  in  the  world,  that  "they  were  thinking'  of  going 
home,"  that  she  was  about  to  put  half  the  globe  between  her 
and  himself,  to  take  very  likely  an  eternal  farewell  of  him  ! 
How  lightly  slie  had  spoken  of  it !  What  truth  there  was  in 
what  Tennyson  had  said  of  woman !  The  lesser  man — that 
was  it !  Even  her  sentiments  and  passions,  compared  with 
his,  were  but  as  moonlight  unto  sunlight,  or  as  water  unto 
wine  !  She  was  incapable  of  fathoming  the  feeling  he  had 
for  her.  There  was  no  measure  for  it  in  her  nature.  It  was 
useless  even  to  allow  himself  to  feel  anger  against  her. 

Yet  anger  is  a  palliative,  or,  rather,  a  counter-irritant, 
when  the  heart  is  smarting.  Reginald  felt  worse  when  he 
ceased  to  be  angry.  There  was  a  cold  intonation  in  his 
voice  when  he  next  spoke  which  reminded  his  companion 
of  those  far-away  childish  days  when  people  had  been  "  dis- 
tant" to  her  because  she  had  been  "a  bad  girl,"  in  the 
nurseiy  acceptation  of  the  phrase. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  hatching  this  fine  plan,  may 
I  ask  ? "  were  Reginald's  words,  very  stiffly  pronounced ; 
"  and  when  do  you  think  of  putting  it  into  execution  ? " 

"We've  been  hatching  it  in  one  sense  all  our  lives,"  re- 
plied young  Mrs.  Frost. 

Her  lips  were  curving  in  spite  of  herself.  Reginald's 
offended  demeanour  prompted  her  to  the  motiveless  laughter 
we  are  sometimes  inclined  to  indulge  in,  sorely  against  the 
grain,  when  some  doleful  tidings  are  suddenly  imparted 
to  us. 

"I'll  tell  you  all  about  it  from  the  beginning,  if  you 
like,  and  then  you  must  say  just  what  you  think  of  it,  you 
know." 

Her  accents  were  cajoling.  It  was  incumbent  upon  her 
to  condone  that  insane  inclination  to  laugh — the  more  so 
that  laughter  would  not  have  been  by  any  means  a  true  re- 
flection of  her  mood  of  the  moment. 

"  It  will  take  rather  a  long  time  to  explain,  I  am  afraid," 
she  went  on,  in  the  same  conciliatory  tones ;  "and  I  dare 
say  it  will  seem  rather  a  sudden  move  to  you,  but  it  doesn't 
to  us.  We  have  discussed  it  so  long  among  ourselves ;  and 
I  would  have  told  you  about  it  ages  ago,  only  thereby  hangs 


MRS.   FROST'S  NEWS.  29 

a  tale.  We  were  pledged  to  secrecy.  I  had  promised 
mother  not  to  say  a  word  about  it  to  a  living  soul." 

"Oh,  if  your  mother  is  in  it "  replied  the  young  man, 

curtly. 

There  was  something  in  the  manner  of  his  rejoinder  that 
did  not  please  his  companion.  She  stiffened  herself  uncon- 
sciously as  she  sat  upon  the  ground.  Reginald's  back  (he 
had  drawn  up  his  knees  and  encircled  them  Avith  his  arms 
as  he  gazed  gloomily  at  the  bay)  looked  as  though  it  breathed 
a  challenge. 

"You  are  not  respectful  to  mother,"  she  said;  "in  fact, 
you  very  seldom  are.  I  have  noticed  it  often  before.  Don't 
you  think  mother  is  a  very  clever  woman  ? " 

Reginald  paused  for  an  instant;  then  he  said : 

"What,  clever!"  with  a  certain  inflection  that  was  not 
entirely  satisfactory  to  his  interlocutress,  for  she  flushed  as 
she  repeated  in  sharpened  tones : 

"  Yes,  clever — very  clever !  Not  in  a  managing,  pushing, 
worldly  way,  perhaps,  but  in  an  intellectual  way.  You 
know  she  is.  Did  you  ever  hear  anyone  talk  better  than 
mother  on  all  kinds  of  subjects  ?  The  cleverest  men  from 
England — University  men,  and  writers,  and  people  of  that 
kind — enjoy  talking  to  her.  Do  you  remember  Dr.  lim- 
beck, on  board  the  German  man-of-war  ?  I  don't  believe 
he  missed  coming  up  a  single  day  all  the  time  the  Prin- 
zessin  was  in  port  to  eat  strawberries  and  cream  at  Cowa. 
He  said  mother  had  '  an  all-embracing  soul.'  He  used  to  tal  k 
to  her  by  the  hour  together." 

"  Yes,  and  look  at  yori !  I  remember  the  old  beast ! "  in- 
terposed Reginald  grimly.  "It  is  not  my  place  to  discuss 
your  mother's  qualities  with  you,  I  know,  but  I  should  like 
to  give  my  real  candid  opinion  about  her  cleverness  for 
once,  if  you'll  promise  not  to  be  offended." 

"  Offended !  I  couldn't  be  more  offended  than  I  am  at 
the  bare  suggestion  that  you  could  have  anything  to  say 
that  I  shouldn't  like.  You  had  better  speak  right  out,  just 
to  show  that  you  would  never  have  dared  to  harbour  a 
thought  about  her  I  shouldn't  approve.  You  are  not  going 
to  deny  that  mother  is  clevei',  I  suppose  ? " 


30  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

"No,  no;  not  altogether. "  The  slow  reluctance  with 
which  he  spoke  added  impressiveness  to  his  words.  "Of 
course  no  one  would  deny  that  your  mother  is  wliat  old- 
fashioned  writers  would  have  called  a  woman  of  parts. 
But  they  want  co-ordinating-  and  arranging.  You  have  a 
weakness  for  fanciful  similes,  I  know.  Well,  I  will  tell  you 
what  your  mother's  abilities  remind  me  of.  They  remind 
me  of  quicksilver  spilled  upon  a  table.  You  know  what 
it  is  like,  don't  you  ?  You  must  have  seen  how  it  breaks  up 
into  bright  little  balls,  and  runs  all  over  the  place,  first  in 
one  direction,  then  in  another.  There's  never  any  getting 
hold  of  it,  although  it's  so  pretty  and  effective.  And  it's  tre- 
mendously useful,  you  know,  when  you  amalgamate  it  with 
something  else,  or  when  you  shut  it  up  in  glass.    Only " 

"  Only ! "  interrupted  young  Mrs.  Frost  indignantly.  "  I 
won't  listen  to  another  word.  Your  quicksilver  simile  may 
be  very  smart;  unfortunately,  it  doesn't  apply.  We  will 
leave  mother's  name  out  of  the  question  in  our  future  dis- 
cussions, if  you  please.  What  I  want  to  know  now  is,  Are 
you  going  to  Ivy  Cottage  with  me,  or  are  you  not  ?  For  if 
we  don't  go  on  at  once,  it  will  be  long  past  tea-time  when  I 
get  there,  and  I  shall  be  expected  to  stay  to  prayers ;  then 
what  will  become  of  you,  waiting  in  the  dark  outside  ? " 

"  I  am  quite  ready,"  said  Reginald,  rising  to  his  feet,  and 
holding  out  a  hand  to  assist  her. 

It  made  him  smile  half  sadly  to  note  the  impatient 
gesture  with  which  she  rejected  his  proffered  aid,  and,  sjiring- 
ing  to  her  feet,  continued  her  way  a  few  paces  in  front  of 
him,  half  walking  and  half  running  at  such  an  accelerated 
rate  of  speed  that  he  was  obliged  to  increase  his  own  to  a 
"go-as-you-please"  pace  to  enable  him  to  keep  up  with  her. 

"The  Red  Indian  stride!"  he  called  out  after  her,  laugh- 
ing. "  I  know  what  mood  you  are  in  when  you  put  that  on. 
But  you're  not  going  to  quarrel  with  me  to-night,  are  you  ? 
I  will  take  back  all  I  said  if  you  will  be  friends  again ;  and 
when  will  you  tell  me  about  the  journey  home  ?  I  can't  be- 
lieve you  are  in  earnest.  Did  you  mean  that  you  are  all 
going  away  together  ?" 

"Yes— all." 


MRS.   FROST'S  NEWS.  81 

Slie  jerked  out  her  reply  over  her  shoulder  with  au  air  of 
ruffled  dignity". 

"  What !  your  mother,  and  the  Philosopher,  and  the  Ni- 
hilist, and  the  Warbler,  and  Truca  ? " 

"Tlie  whole  boiling,"  said  young  Mrs.  Frost  recklessly. 
"But  see!  those  are  the  lights  of  Ivy  Cottage.  We  arc 
almost  there.  Where  shall  I  find  you  waiting  for  me  when 
I  come  out  ? " 

"  Here."  He  pointed  to  a  large  boulder  with  his  walking- 
stick.  "  I  can  sit  and  meditate  upon  this  stoTie.  You  won't 
be  very  long,  will  you  ?  Couldn't  you  by  any  possibility 
give  me  a  clue  to  your  reasons,  or  your  mother's  reasons,  for 
wanting  to  leave  Tasmania  before  you  go  ?" 

"  Not  by  any  possibility.  Didn't  I  tell  you  it  was  a  long 
story  ? " 

"  Well,  one  question  only  before  you  go.  Have  you 
come  into  an  inheritance  ? " 

"  No ;  and  I  won't  answer.     But  we  have  jirospects " 

"  Prospects !  what  prosi3ects  ?  "  he  shouted  after  her. 

But  she  was  gone,  and  her  back  was  turned  upon  him 
before  he  could  say  any  more.  He  stood  for  a  moment 
looking  after  the  elastic  figure  as  it  moved  swiftly  forward 
in  the  gathering  gloom,  telling  himself  that,  amidst  unnum- 
bered crowds,  he  could  swear  to  its  identity,  no  matter  from 
what  distance  he  should  see  it.  Even  now,  in  the  indistinct, 
fast-waning  light,  the  stately  poise  of  the  head,  like  that  of 
a  Rebecca  at  the  well ;  the  roundness  of  the  waist ;  the  sup- 
ple curve  in  the  back,  that  conferred  so  pre-eminently  what 
the  French  call  la  taille  cambree  on  its  possessor;  the 
Diana-like  hips,  and  the  buoyant  tread,  marked  her  out 
from  all  other  women  he  knew.  He  did  not  carry  out  his 
promise  of  meditating  upon  a  stone,  after  all.  He  set  him- 
self to  walk  to  and  fro  as  he  waited  for  her,  so  absorbed  in 
his  thought  of  her  that  he  almost  forgot  to  wonder  at  her 
prolonged  absence. 

And  while  he  is  waiting  and  thinking,  it  may  be  as  well 
to  explain  why  his  thoughts  did  not  harmonize  with  the 
merry  heart  which  goes  all  the  day,  while  "  your  sad  tires 
in  a  mile-a." 


32  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

Young  Mrs.  Frost's  actual  position,  and  the  fate  which 
caused  her  to  tumble  into  it,  have  no  small  share  in  them ; 
and  by  setting  it  forth  I  shall  best  reveal  the  thoughts  that 
weigh  so  heavily  upon  Reginald's  mind  as  he  walks  up  and 
down  in  the  gathering  darkness  waiting  for  her. 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  HOME   IN  TASMANIA. 

"  That  he  is  mad,  'tis  true  : 
'Tis  true,  'tis  pity  ;  and  pity  'tis,  'tis  true." 

Shakespeare. 

CowA  Cottage,  young  Mrs.  Frost's  home,  might  have 
been  aptly  described  in  Macaulay's  words : 

"  Like  an  eagle's  nest 
Hangs  on  the  crest 
Of  purple  Apenuine." 

For  "  Apennine  "  it  would  have  been  necessary,  however,  to 
substitute  the  less  poetic  name  of  "Knocklofty,"  which,  if 
not  as  high,  forms  at  least  as  wild  and  as  purple  a  back- 
ground as  the  one  the  poet  had  in  his  mind. 

Cowa  was  not  only  our  heroine's  home ;  it  was  her  birth- 
place as  well.  Some  seventeen  years  before  she  became 
Mrs.  Frost,  she  made  her  entry  into  what  Mr.  Tulliver  called 
with  reason  this  "  puzzling  world,"  at  a  time  when  the  roses 
v/ere  in  full  bloom  in  Tasmania — that  is  to  say,  shortly  be- 
fore Christmas.  She  was  named  Eila,  which  is  the  Russian 
synonym  for  "  mountain,"  and  promised  to  exemplify  Bal- 
zac's theory  tliat  there  is  an  occult  connection  between  peo- 
ple and  the  names  they  bear  by  shooting  up  into  a  vigorous 
mountain  flower  in  her  own  person.  Her  family  name  was 
Clare,  and  the  sequence  of  Eila  Clare  had  a  euphonious  ring 
that  was  well  adapted  to  the  personality  it  represented. 
There  were  not  people  wanting,  however,  wlio  said  that 


A   HOME  IN  TASMANIA.  33 

Eila  was  as  peculiai'  as  her  name ;  but  as  this  was  a  charge 
that  was  levelled  against  the  Clare  family  en  masse,  it  may 
have  been  only  made  by  those  who,  to  use  a  Spencerian 
word,  could  not  contra-distinguish  her  from  her  sur- 
roundings. 

Eila's  father,  dead  some  yeai'S  back,  had  occupied  a 
modest  post  in  the  Treasury.  His  individuality  had  been 
in  a  great  measure  extinguished  by  his  wife's,  of  whom 
more  will  be  said  anon.  He  died  before  Eila  was  in  long 
dresses,  the  father  of  four  children,  the  elder  of  whom  re- 
tained more  or  less  vaguely  the  recollection  of  the  paternal 
presence  at  the  breakfast-table,  and  at  late  tea,  as  something 
kindly,  orderly,  somewhat  silent,  appearing  and  disappear- 
ing at  stated  hours  as  regularly  as  the  sun  rose  and  set.  In 
aftertimes  they  comprehended  that  this  unobtrusive  pres- 
ence had,  to  a  great  extent,  kept  the  household  together ; 
that  it  was  owing  to  its  silent  influence  that  the  meals  had 
been  ready  at  their  appointed  hour,  and  that  the  boys  had 
been  sent  regularly  to  school ;  also  that  the  charge  of  being 
peculiar  had  been  so  much  less  frequently  levelled  against 
their  mother  and  themselves.  It  required,  however,  a  long 
experience  to  enable  them  to  realize  this  fact,  just  as  it  has 
taken  mankind  a  long  time  to  discover  the  silent  forces  at 
work  around  them,  albeit  they  have  been  ready  at  all  times 
to  bow  themselves  before  the  thunderbolt  and  the  rainbow. 
Mrs.  Clare  maintained  her  husband's  system,  in  so  far  as 
was  possible  without  doing  too  great  a  violence  to  her  na- 
ture, for  some  years  after  his  death.  He  had  insured  his 
life,  in  deference  to  a  curious  prescience  of  the  fate  that 
finally  overtook  him,  and  had  left  his  widow  Cowa  Cottage, 
and  an  income  of  some  three  hundred  a  year  that  required 
careful  eking  out  to  enable  her  to  feed,  and  clothe,  and  edu- 
cate five  children  upon  it.  In  justice  to  Eila's  mother,  it 
must  be  said  that  the  habit  of  running  into  debt  did  not  find 
a  place  among  her  other  idiosyncrasies.  A  cei^tain  lorofit, 
moreover,  was  reaped  from  the  garden,  which  was  kept  in 
order  by  the  eldest  of  the  boys.  As  doctors'  and  apotheca- 
ries' bills  were  unknown,  Mrs.  Clare  even  found  it  possible 
to  lay  by  part  of  her  income  every  year  towards  the  carry- 


34  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

ing  out  of  a  scheme  cherished  by  all  the  family  together — 
of  going  to  Europe  at  some  future  time. 

Though  each  little  Clare  came  into  the  world  with  a 
separate  and  strongly  marked  individuality,  there  were  cer- 
tain traits  they  j)ossessed  in  common  which  made  them 
understand  and  feel  certain  things  through  and  for  each 
other  as  no  one  out  of  the  family  could  have  done.  For 
example,  they  all  evinced  a  metaphysical  bias,  more  espe- 
cially in  their  younger  years  ;  and  there  was  not  one  of  them, 
with  the  exception  of  Willie,  the  practical  elder  son,  who 
did  not  go  through  a  similar  awakening  to  the  crushing 
apprehension  of  infinite  time  and  space  between  the  ages  of 
seven  and  twelve.  Eila,  despite  her  vigorous  constitution 
and  healthy  pagan  joy  in  being,  had  one  of  the  worst 
attacks.  It  was  long  before  she  could  contemplate  the  ortho- 
dox idea  that  souls  must  go  on  living  eternally  without  a 
sick  terror,  that  drove  her  to  wish  there  were  no  such  thing  as 
conscious  existence  in  space.  Similarly,  in  their  tender  years 
the  Clare  children  one  and  all  went  through  the  same  phase 
of  mystic  piety.  I  fear  that  Eila's  was  the  shortest.  At  the 
time  of  her  friendship  with  Reginald  Acton,  she  believed 
she  had  reached  finality  of  opinion  as  regarded  questions  of 
faith.  An  agnosticism  that  wavered  between  pessimism  and 
optimism  according  to  the  mood  of  the  moment,  or  that  fol- 
lowed the  impressions  resulting  from  the  latest  topic  in  the 
home  papers,  would  have  best  defined  her  spiritual  attitude. 
As  regarded  worldly  affairs,  she  had  remained  exceedingly 
childish  and  credulous,  notwithstanding  the  lesson  taught 
her  by  her  early  and  ill-considered  marriage.  She  had, 
nevertheless,  a  naive  belief  in  conventionality,  and  made 
conscientious  efforts  to  j^ractise  it  in  her  own  behalf  as  a 
corrective  to  the  total  absence  of  it  in  her  family.  She  did 
not  like  to  feel  that  they  were  looked  upon  as  pariahs.  It 
was  she  who  obliged  her  mother  to  return  the  rare  calls  that 
were  made  at  Cowa  Cottage,  and  to  tie  her  bonnet-strings 
according  to  the  prevailing  fashion.  Her  brother  and  sister, 
a  pair  of  twin  rebels,  mocked  at  her  for  what  they  called  her 
"  society  ways  "  ;  but  she  was  leniently  judged  in  this  as  in 
other  respects,  j)artly  because  of  her  heart-and-soul  devotion 


A  HOME  IN  TASMANIA.  35 

to  her  family,  and  partly,  perhaps,  by  reason  of  her  personal 
attractions.  A  mere  classic  outline  would  not  have  counted 
for  much.  But  Eila  had  something  more  than  a  classic  out- 
line. She  had  the  kind  of  warm,  loving,  radiant  iniiuence 
that  made  her  presence  bring  an  actual  sense  of  well-being 
with  it,  like  the  light  and  perfume  of  apple-blossoms.  It 
was  almost  worth  while  having  a  headache  to  feel  her  warm, 
magnetic  touch  wander  over  brows  and  temples,  and  gradu- 
ally charm  it  away.  Truca,  the  youngest  of  the  band,  a 
strange  little  soul,  the  only  delicate  member  of  the  family, 
never  forgot  how  on  winter  nights  her  sister  had  knelt  by 
her  bed  to  hold  the  little  marble-cold  feet  in  her  soft  warm 
hands,  and  bring  back  the  vivifying  heat  to  them.  That 
Eila  should  have  jiossessed  so  sympathetic  a  comprehension 
of  pain  and  suif  ering  was  the  more  extraordinary  that  she 
was  a  very  Hygeia  in  her  own  person,  and  might,  mdeed, 
have  served  as  a  prototype  of  that  radiant  goddess  when  she 
wandered  about  the  descending  hay-field  during  Clu-istmas 
week,  with  her  arms  full  of  tall  Christmas  lilies  and  scarlet 
geraniums,  gathered  from  the  riotous  hedge  that  bordered 
the  two-acre  cow-paddock.  At  the  age  of  seventeen  she 
committed  the  crowning  error  of  her  life — an  error  so  great 
that  it  is  necessary  to  remember  that,  if  seventeen  is  coupled 
with  sweetness,  it  is  cei-tainly  not  allied  with  wisdom,  to  find 
any  kind  of  excuse  for  it.  She  was  not  quite  so  pretty  or  quite 
so  refined-looking  at  this  time  as  she  subsequently  became, 
possibly  because  the  very  exuberance  of  her  youth  and 
health,  like  the  luxuriant  growths  that  prevent  the  forest 
from  being  seen,  obscured  what  French  winters  call  la  ligne 
in  her  otherwise  charming  figure.  To  put  the  matter  more 
plainly,  she  was  too  stout.  Some  years  later,  when  time  and 
grief  had  taken  her  in  hand,  the  sleiwier  throat,  the  dainty 
wrists,  the  delicate  framework — all,  in  fact,  that  the  same 
French  writers  include  under  the  name  of  les  fines  attaches 
— were  more  clearly  appreciable.  It  may  have  been  partly 
for  this  reason,  and  partly  because  a  beauty,  like  a  prophet, 
of  home  production  sometimes  lacks  honour  in  her  own 
country,  that  the  Hobart  woi-ld  did  not  at  first  endorse  her 
claims  to  be  considered  beautiful.    There  was,  nevertheless, 


36  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

a  certain  uneasy  foreboding  among  enterprising  mammas  of 
marriageable  daughters  that  strangers  might  "see  some- 
thing "  in  Eila  Clare.  Strangers,  it  is  well  known,  are  looked 
upo2i  in  Hobart  much  in  the  light  of  those  sons  of  God  who 
came  down  to  visit  the  daughters  of  men.  Amongst  those 
who  flock  to  Tasmania  in  the  season,  there  is  generally  one 
-n  the  shape  of  an  heir  to  an  English  estate,  or  a  squatter 
with  hundreds  of  square  miles  to  his  share  in  Australia,  who 
may  be  said  to  represent  the  winning  number.  To  draAv  the 
prize,  or  at  least  a  good  number,  for  her  daughter  was  the 
natural  and  legitimate  ambition  of  many  a  Tasmanian 
mother,  who  woxild  gladly  have  seen  Eila  non-existent,  or 
married  off-hand,  to  remove  her  from  the  ranks  of  the 
competitors. 

By  what  fatality  she  played  into  the  hands  of  these 
schemers  of  her  own  accord,  it  wovild  be  hard  to  say.  In  a 
logical  cause-and-elfect  age,  we  no  longer  have  the  resource 
of  ascribing  our  foolish  deeds  to  the  stai-s ;  and  though  a 
new  philosophy  may  show  that,  under  given  circumstances, 
we  are  mathematically  constrained  to  act  in  a  given  way, 
because  our  actions  are  only  the  sum  of  countless  actions 
performed  by  countless  progenitors,  who  in  their  turn  obeyed 
unconsciously  the  law  of  their  being,  the  theory  does  not 
satisfactorily  explain  why  we  should  occasionally  go,  to  all 
appearance  deliberately  and  wilfully,  out  of  our  way  to 
bring  about  our  own  undoing.  This  is  precisely  what  Eila 
did,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  she  prided  herself  upon 
having  a  logical  mind  ;  and  it  is  the  more  difficult  to  give  a 
colour  of  probability  to  her  conduct,  that  in  after-times  she 
was  at  a  loss  to  account  for  it  to  herself. 

It  had  happened  during  her  first  season  of  gaiety.  The 
Clares  would  have  occupied  a  place  in  an  undefined  border- 
land if  they  had  been  in  what  is  called  society  at  all.  But 
as  they  gave  themselves  no  trouble  in  this  respect,  and 
thought  of  nothing  but  amusing  themselves  in  their  own 
way,  they  had  no  defined  place  or  status,  no  social  position, 
indeed,  of  any  kind.  They  went  where  they  were  invited 
when  they  saw  a  prospect  of  amusing  themselves.  Other- 
wise, the  thousand  and  one  reasons  for  which  people  go  to 


A  HOME  IN  TASMANIA.  37 

each  other's  houses  against  their  inclinations  had  no  weight 
with  them.  Eila,  however,  loved  dancing,  and  for  the  dear 
delight  of  waltzing  at  a  subscription  ball  she  would  walk 
with  her  brother  (who  at  sixteen  was  allowed  to  take  part  in 
such  festivities  in  a  tailless  jacket  and  white  gloves) — slie 
would  walk  with  him,  I  say,  down  a  stony  hill-road  of  im- 
possible steepness,  and  through  a  mile-long,  ill-paved  street 
at  nine  o'clock  at  night,  to  return  by  the  same  purgatorial 
path  at  two  in  the  morning,  so  light  of  heart  and  foot  that 
she  could  have  waltzed  up  the  hill  with  the  most  entire  en- 
joyment, if  any  of  her  evening's  partners  had  presented 
themselves  for  the  occasion. 

It  was  at  a  carpet-dance  at  the  house  of  some  neighbours 
on  the  hill  that  she  met  Charles  Frost,  a  young  man  of  some 
eight  or  nine  and  twenty,  with  whom,  however,  she  did  not 
dance,  for  the  reason  that  his  interpretation  of  his  mission  m 
life  forbade  him  to  indulge  in  that  exercise.  He  was  the 
only  son  of  an  elderly  couple,  living,  as  Eila  knew  (for 
every  one  in  Hobart  knows  where  everybody  else  lives),  in 
a  long,  low-roofed,  dark  cottage,  known  as  Ivy  Cottage, 
about  a  mile  from  Cowa.  Mr.  Frost  senior  had  enjoyed  a 
post  in  connection  with  the  Supreme  Court  in  the  old  days 
of  transportation  (when  the  island  was  still  known  as  Van 
Diemen's  Land,  and  home  readers  who  had  no  connections 
in  the  colonies  knew  of  it  principally  through  the  medium 
of  "  Gulliver's  Travels  "),  in  which  capacity  he  had  assisted 
cheerfully  at  the  flogging  and  hanging  of  unnumbered  con- 
victs. He  had  married  somewhat  late  in  life  the  mature, 
but  still  handsome,  daughter  of  a  Presbyterian  minister,  by 
whom  he  had  had  an  only  son.  The  rigorous  bringing  up 
of  the  lad  had  had  the  usual  effect  of  di'iving  him  into  wild 
courses,  in  which,  however,  he  was  violently  pulled  up  at 
the  age  of  one-and-twenty  by  the  combined  efforts  of  a  nar- 
row escape  from  drowning  and  the  theatrical  declamations 
of  a  revival  preacher.  During  his  reckless  ]3eriod  he  had 
taken  to  the  Bush,  where  he  had  distinguished  himself  prin- 
cipally as  a  splendid  rider  and  a  hard  drinker.  He  had  even 
reached  the  point  of  knocking  down  his  check  in  a  week's 
debauch  in  the  nearest  township  with  the  first  boon  com- 


38  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

panion,  broken-down  gentleman,  boundary-rider,  or  shearer 
that  chance  threw  in  his  way.  His  parents  were  unable  to 
cope  with  him,  but  they  wrestled  for  him  (as  they  termed  it 
themselves)  with  the  Lord.  They  never  doubted  that  it  was 
their  pertinacity  in  this  respect  that  had  saved  him.  When 
he  returned  to  them  three  years  later  he  had  become  a  I'e- 
ligious  enthusiast.  To  a  disciple  of  Maudesley  there  would 
have  been  something  not  entirely  reassuring  in  a  certain  air 
of  suppressed  excitement  that  betrayed  itself  when  he  spoke 
upon  religious  subjects.  But  to  Eila,  who  had  not  yet  fin- 
ished growing,  he  appeared  in  the  light  of  an  inspired 
teacher.  She  had  been  nourishing  her  imagination  upon 
Bret  Harte's  heroes,  as  a  former  generation  nourished  its 
romantic  craving  upon  "Lara"  and  the  "Corsair,"  and 
could  conceive  no  more  delightful  ideal  than  the  reckless, 
chivalrous  Jack  Hamlyn  type,  with  the  athletic  frame  and 
the  wonderful  blue  eyes,  trusting  as  a  child's  and  brazen  as 
a  profligate's.  Many  an  otherwise  pure  woman  is  irresistibly 
fascinated — especially  in  early  youth— by  this  particular 
type:  Curiously  enough,  Charles  Frost,  despite  his  religious 
enthusiasm,  was  not  unlike  it  outwardly.  Eila  woiild  have 
indignantly  repudiated  the  notion  that  this  circumstance 
could  have  had  anything  to  do  with  her  engouement  (I 
wonder  what  English  word  could  adequately  render  the 
meaning  of  engouement  ?)  for  him.  Yet  I  fear  there  was 
more  of  the  personal  and  magnetic  in  his  influence  than  she 
had  any  idea  of  herself.  After  her  fu'st  meeting  with  him 
she  lay  awake  the  best  part  of  the  night,  recalling  the  sensa- 
tion that  had  thrilled  her  as  she  felt  his  eyes  following  her 
about  the  room,  while  she  floated  round  to  the  "  Blue  Dan- 
ube "  and  "  Belle  Helene  "  of  an  amateur  pianist  with  an  in- 
different partner.  How  she  glorified  him  in  her  imagina- 
tion !  She  behaved,  indeed,  with  a  weakness  worthy  of  the 
stronger  sex  under  the  influence  of  a  first  overpowering 
attack  of  the  midsummer  madness  called  "  calf  love."  But 
calf  love  is  an  extenuating  circumstance  that  women  are  not 
allowed  to  plead  in  their  own  behalf.  We  know  that  in  all 
that  concerns  the  ever-vexed  question  of  the  relations  of  the 
sexes,  it  is  from  the  so-called  weaker  sex  that  the  mature 


A  HOME   IN  TASMANIA.  39 

judgment,  the  cool  head,  the  stoical  self-mastery  are  exacted 
— at  the  cost  of  the  heaviest  penalties  should  they  fail  in  any 
of  these  qualities.  To  men  the  consequences  of  a  first  mis- 
take are  comparatively  of  small  account,  for,  without  going 
so  far  as  to  say  that  they  may  indulge  upon  a  certain  num- 
ber of  trial  trips  before  embarking  upon  the  unknown  sea  of 
mati'imony,  it  is  certain  that  they  may  play  at  being  in  love, 
or  may  fall  in  and  out  of  love,  an  unlimited  number  of  times 
without  exciting  much  repi'obation. 

Women's  experiences  are  necessarily  restricted  and  timid. 
Yet  they  are  just  as  likely,  if  we  would  only  admit  it,  to  be 
taken  in  by  their  own  first  gropings  towards  love  and  pas- 
sion as  men.  How  many  there  are  who,  looking  back 
towards  their  own  youthful  experiences,  would  be  obliged 
to  own  that  more  than  once  they  could  have  found  it  in 
their  hearts  to  say  in  Tennyson's  words  to  the  hero  of  the 
hour,  "  No  more,  dear  love,  for  at  a  touch  I  yield,"  and  who 
are  fain  to  bless  their  lucky  stars,  or  whatever  does  duty  for 
these,  that  circumstances  prevented  them  from  saying  it, 
since  events  have  proved  that  their  hero  of  the  hour  was 
emphatically  the  wi-ong  man  in  the  most  extended  sense  of 
the  phrase. 

Eila  did  not  give  herself  time  to  discover  that  Charles 
Frost  was  her  Avrong  man.  Tliere  was  a  curious  fascination 
in  perceiving  how  the  severity  with  which  he  regarded  her 
melted  into  wistful  love  as  she  came  close  to  him.  She 
thought  that  the  tumult  of  feeling  he  raised  in  her  was  spir- 
itual, and  made  no  allowance  for  the  influence  of  six  feet 
of  splendidly  developed  manhood  upon  the  Juliet  side  of  a 
many-sided  nature.  And  yet,  as  I  have  already  shown,  tliere 
was  much  that  was  magnetic  in  his  mastery  over  her.  She 
would  turn  from  white  to  crimson,  and  from  crimson  to 
white,  when  she  met  him.  She  gave  up  the  dear  delight  of 
dancing  for  his  sake,  and  sat  out  the  seductive  waltzes  at  the 
Hobart  parties  with  him,  making  her  confession  of  faith  or 
non-faith  behind  her  fan  in  the  flirtation  corners  arranged 
by  the  hostess.  She  thought  his  narrow  creed  beautiful,  be- 
cause he  acted  up  to  it  himself ;  and  though  her  reason  re- 
belled against  it,  she  almost  cried  with  gratitude  when  he 


40  NOT   COUNTING  THE  COST. 

proposed  to  her.  He  was  convinced,  he  told  her,  that  he 
would  bring  her  into  the  fold.  Nevertheless,  the  course  of 
their  love  did  not  run  smooth.  There  was  strenuous  oppo- 
sition on  the  part  of  the  young  man's  parents,  who  shunned 
the  Clares  as  a  godless  family,  and  looked  upon  Eila  as  a 
brand  that  might  well  be  left  to  the  burning.  There  were 
also  protests  on  the  part  of  Eila's  own  mother,  brothers,  and 
sisters,  who  had  always  taken  it  for  granted  that,  when  Eila 
contributed  a  husband  to  the  family,  he  must  have  some- 
thing in  common  with  them  as  well  as  herself. 

But,  in  spite  of  all  this  opjjosition,  or,  perhaps,  by  reason 
of  it,  the  marriage  took  place  in  due — Eila's  relatives  would 
have  said  in  wwdue — time.  The  bride  was  still  in  a  state  of 
semi-exaltation,  half  mystic,  half  sensuous,  as  she  stood 
before  the  altar  of  the  Presbyterian  church,  and  endorsed 
with  voice  and  heart  all  the  imjjossible  vows  and  promises 
that  the  minister  put  into  her  mouth. 

The  rest  of  her  disastrous  history  is  soon  told.  She  went 
to  live  with  her  husband  in  Victoria,  where  he  cultivated 
his  garden,  not  by  planting  cabbages  like  Candide,  but  in 
the  shape  of  a  600  acre  selection.  He  also  performed  the 
office  of  reader  in  the  nearest  Presbyterian  church.  It  was 
a  modest  home  to  which  he  conducted  his  radiant  bride; 
but  Eila  was  prepared  to  be  as  happy  as  the  day  in  it  (though 
why  a  day  should  bear  so  blissful  an  interpretation,  I  can- 
not say).  But  Fate  showed  her  from  the  first  the  frowning 
visage  of  a  Medusa.  During  their  honeymoon,  the  child- 
bride  made  the  appalling  discovery  that  her  husband  was 
subject  to  epileptic  fits,  the  consequence,  though  she  did 
not  know  it,  of  former  excesses.  Before  the  first  year  was 
over,  he  had  developed  certain  symptoms  of  incipient  insan- 
ity. The  shocks  of  discovery  followed  each  other  so  quickly 
and  unmercifully,  that  had  it  not  been  for  the  recollection 
of  mother,  brothers,  and  sisters,  and  of  the  place  she  held  in 
their  hearts,  Eila  must  have  killed  herself  in  her  despair. 
She  had  a  constitution  that  refused  to  be  destroyed  by  mere 
mental  anguish,  though  she  believed  that  she  suffered  enough 
at  this  time  to  make  it  possible  for  her  to  die  of  grief.  The 
worst  of  all  was  the  complete  re\ailsion  of  feelings  he  under- 


A  HOME  IN  TASMANIA.  41 

went  as  reofarded  her  husband.  All  that  she  had  looked  ujion 
before  as  high  and  holy  inspiration  appeared  to  her  now  in 
the  light  of  the  outcome  of  a  diseased  mind.  There  could 
be  no  longer  any  thought  of  asking  for  an  explanation  of 
fanatical  views  or  gloomy  prophecies.  It  was  enough  if 
day  followed  day  without  bringing  some  irremediable  catas- 
trophe in  its  wake.  She  was  tender  of  her  husband,  but 
unfeignedly  terrified  of  him.  She  followed  him  through 
the  weary  stages  of  irritability  and  loss  of  memory  that 
obliged  him  to  suspend  his  work,  until  the  awful,  never-to- 
be-forgotten  morning  when  she  went  out  upon  the  veranda 
to  consult  him  upon  their  approaching  departiu*e  for  Tas- 
mania, where  she  looked  for  help  and  protection,  and  saw 
him  advance  towards  her  with  a  Bible  in  one  hand  and  a 
knife  in  the  other,  and  that  in  his  face  that  ruade  her  heart 
stand  still.  Madness  and  murder  were  written  in  it ;  and  as 
she  fled  into  the  garden,  and  thence  hatless  down  the  bush- 
track  that  separated  her  from  the  cottages  lying  on  the  out- 
skirts of  the  to^vnship,  sending  forth  shiiek  upon  shriek  as 
she  ran,  she  could  fancy  she  felt,  as  in  some  hideous  night- 
mare, his  hot  breath  upon  her  neck.  But  help  in  the  shape 
of  some  sturdy  woodsplitters  was  near  at  hand.  The  mad- 
man was  secured,  and  finally  taken  in  a  bush-buggy,  lent  by 
some  neighbours  for  the  occasion,  to  the  hospital  in  the 
nearest  township,  "  cursing,  swearing,  and  gnawing  his  fin- 
gers," as  King  John  is  said  to  have  done  in  Dickens'  dra- 
matic description  of  the  latter  end  of  that  unholy  monarch. 
His  wife  was  never  at  his  mercy  again.  Charles  Frost's 
father  came  to  Victoria  for  him  by  the  next  steamer,  and 
the  now  dangerous  hmatic  was  placed  among  the  paying 
patients  in  the  New  Norfolk  Asylum  near  Hobart.  A  little 
allowance  of  twenty  pounds  a  year  was  doled  out  to  Eila 
by  her  father-in-law,  after  she  had  returned  like  a  wounded 
bird  to  the  home-nest. 

It  was  more  than  four  years  now  since  this  tragedy  had 
occurred.  Eila  was  no  longer  an  obstacle  to  the  matrimo- 
nial chances  of  the  Hobart  belles.  When  the  English  men- 
of-war  sailed  into  the  harbour,  and  the  Melbourne  steamers 
brought  their  eagerly  expected  contingent  of  strangers,  rival 


42  NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

mothers  no  longer  trembled  lest  her  beauty  should  cany  off 
the  prize.  She  might  grow  more  beautiful  every  day  for  all 
they  cared,  and  for  all  the  serious  liarm  she  could  do  them 
now.  At  the  first  word  of  admiration  that  her  appearance 
excited,  a  hundred  informants  were  ready  to  whisi^er,  "  She 
has  a  husband  in  the  asylum,  and  they  are  such  a  peculiar 
family." 

For  the  first  year  after  her  return,  Eila  was  as  one  stunned 
by  a  too  great  shock.  She  had  gone  through  experiences 
sufficient,  in  the  course  of  a  few  short  months,  to  fill  a  five- 
act  di-ama.  She  had  been  madly  in  love  with  a  creation  of 
her  own  that  she  had  fastened  upon  a  flesh-and-blood  lover. 
Before  her  honeymoon  was  half  over,  a  black  gulf  of  horror 
had  yawned  before  her.  She  had  been  all  but  frightened  to 
death  while  she  was  still  a  child-wife,  and  was  so  shaken 
and  unstrung  when  she  re-entered  her  childhood's  home 
that  the  mere  banging  of  a  door  sufficed  to  make  her  weep 
hysterically.  But  she  had  an  elastic  nature,  and  youth  and 
health  besides.  When,  as  in  John  Barleycorn,  "  the  kindly 
spring  came  round  again,"  her  own  spring  season  seemed  to 
return.  She  put  aside  the  recollection  of  her  ghastly  year 
of  courtship  and  matrimony  as  an  ugly  dream,  a  memory  to 
be  locked  away  like  the  skeleton  in  her  cuj^board,  and  never 
brought  to  light.  Tliough  she  must  not  think  of  love  and 
marriage,  she  need  not,  she  told  herself,  forego  all  the  pleas- 
ures that  belonged  to  her  age,  tliough  of  these  I  am  forced 
to  own  there  were  not  a  few  that  might  have  been  qualified 
as  childish  in  the  extreme— to  wit,  those  of  romjiing  in  the 
hay,  or  of  swinging  upon  the  roundabout  with  the  younger 
members  of  the  family. 

Her  short  experience  of  wedded  life  had  inclined  her  to 
look  upon  matrimony  with  horror.  But  it  was  as  natural  to 
her  to  sun  herself  now  and  again  in  the  admiration  she  ex- 
cited as  for  a  flower  to  turn  to  the  light.  Her  own  brothers 
and  sisters  were  the  first  to  bestow  it  upon  her,  and  it  was 
upon  them  that  she  lavished  now  all  the  abundance  of  her 
young  afi'ections. 

Two  years  after  her  retimi  she  began  to  appear  once 
more  in  the  Hobart  world.     It  was  at  a  picnic  that  has  re- 


A  HOME   IN  TASMANIA.  43 

mained  famous  in  Hobart  annals  that  she  met  Reginald  Ac- 
ton for  the  first  time,  soon  after  her  social  resiuTection. 
There  are  English  naval  officers  scattered  about  the  world 
who  must  remember  the  prodigious  snowstorm  that  over- 
took a  party  of  picnickers  upon  the  desolate  stony  summit 
of  Mount  Wellington  several  years  ago,  and  the  adventurous 
descent  amid  the  blinding  snowflakes  that  followed.  More 
than  one  excursionist  would  have  remained  behind,  never 
perhaps  to  have  been  heard  of  again,  but  for  the  timely  help 
of  a  few  brave  climbers.  It  fell  to  Reginald's  share  to  take 
charge  of  young  Mrs.  Frost,  and  as  he  guided,  half  leading, 
half  carrying  her  across  that  stony  ocean  of  desolation 
known  as  the  Ploughed  Field,  it  first  came  into  his  thoughts 
that  here,  by  Heaven's  grace,  was  the  one  maid  for  him. 
But  Eila  was  a  wife,  and  not  a  maid,  and  Reginald  possessed 
a  simple  code  of  honour  that  forbade  him  to  make  love  to  a 
married  woman.  Perhaps  his  abstention  in  this  respect  was 
a  salre  to  his  conscience  in  others,  for  he  did  not  hide  from 
himself  the  fact  that  he  loved  her.  He  became  her  friend, 
her  confidant,  and  her  counsellor,  almost  her  father  confes- 
sor as  well.  He  believed  that  he  knew  all  her  thoughts, 
fancies,  failings,  and  faults,  and  he  loved  them  one  and  all 
because  they  were  hers.  He  had  left  the  navy  to  remain 
with  a  widowed  and  half-paralyzed  mother,  living  in  a  quiet 
suburb  of  quiet  Hobart,  and  had  accepted  a  modestly-remu- 
nerated i)ost  as  secretary  to  an  insurance  comjjany.  Why 
he  did  not  marry  was  a  question  which  exercised  many 
minds,  especially  feminine  ones,  in  the  little  community. 
Something  in  his  staid  and  gentle  bearing  inspired  confi- 
dence, even  before  two  years  of  an  apparently  immaculate 
way  of  life  had  established  his  title  to  resi^ect.  Curiously 
enough,  his  friendship  for  young  Mrs.  Frost,  though  it  had 
become  a  recognised  fact  in  Hobart,  had  not  as  yet  exposed 
either  of  the  friends  to  the  most  poisoned  shafts  of  Mrs. 
Grundy.  The  world,  despite  its  ill-nature,  is  often  sharper 
in  its  judgments  than  we  give  it  credit  for.  It  is  true  that 
by  a  certain  portion  of  the  community  Eila  was  talked  about, 
and  we  know  that  it  is  never  to  her  advantage  that  a  woman, 
be  she  young  or  old,  is  talked  about ;  but  the  majority  held 
4 


44  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

that  Reginald  was  biding  his  time  until  she  should  be  free ; 
and  there  were  many  who  believed  him  capable  of  biding  it 
for  twenty  years  as  faithfully  as  for  twenty  months. 

Meanwhile,  what  view  did  Reginald  himself  take  of  his 
position  ?  Not  a  very  hopeful  one  to-night,  it  is  to  be  feared, 
judging  by  the  air  of  gloomy  abstraction  that  clouds  his 
pleasant  Saxon  face  as  he  walks  to  and  fro  along  the  grass- 
grown  border  of  the  quiet  little  street,  round  the  corner  of 
which  Eila  has  disajipeared.  A  charming  twilight  view  (for 
Hobart  is  far  enough  South  to  enjoy  a  short  rehearsal  of 
home  twilights)  lies  spread  before  him  in  the  indigo  waters 
of  the  harbour  and  the  slate-coloured  outline  of  the  hills 
beyond,  cut  out  against  the  whitening  sky  with  almost 
photographic  distinctness.  But  he  has  no  eyes  for  it  now. 
What  is  a  beautiful  landscape,  after  all,  but  a  subjective  en- 
joyment ?  What  will  the  harbour  and  the  hills  have  to  say 
to  him  when  Eila  is  no  longer  there  ?  What  relief  can  he 
look  for  in  them  from  the  heart-heaviness  that  has  begun  to 
weigh  upon -him  already  ?  How  is  he  to  reconcile  love  and 
duty  ?  and,  above  all,  how  is  he  to  live  without  Eila  ? 


CHAPTER  III. 

HOW  EILA  WAS  RECEIVED  AT  IVY  COTTAGE. 

Ivy  Cottage  represented  a  curious  ramassis  of  such 
articles  of  furniture  as  may  still  be  found  in  the  back-par- 
lours of  hereditary  shopkeepers  in  small  provincial  towns  in 
England.  At  the  time  when  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frost  first  set  up 
housekeeping  in  Hobart,  the  communication  between  the 
mother-country  and  Tasmania  was  carried  on  principally 
by  means  of  convict  and  emigrant  ships,  which  succeeded 
each  other  at  long  and  irregular  intervals.  Just  as  the  vis- 
itor to  Eastern  towns  is  sometimes  confronted  in  the  out- 
skirts of  some  Oriental  bazaar  with  an  incongruous  heap  of 
ill-assorted  sets  of  tumblers,  lop-sided  dishes,  and  tawdry 
ornaments  of  divers  descriptions,  representing  the  overflow 


HOW  EILA  WAS  RECEIVED  AT  IVY  COTTAGE.  45 

of  depots  of  Brummagem  ware  in  England  and  Germany, 
so  one  might  encounter  in  the  early  days  in  Tasmania  tlie 
most  heterogeneous  assortment  of  rubbish  in  the  shops  and 
stores  that  the  devices  of  the  exporter  could  bring  together. 
There  was  a  general  impression,  which  was  not  destroyed 
by  the  splendid  specimens  of  man  and  woman  hood  to  be 
found  among  the  early  settlers,  that  the  use  of  the  colonies 
was  to  serve  as  the  receptacle  for  all  the  failures  of  the  old 
world — not  only  the  moral  failures,  in  the  shape  of  law- 
breakers and  superfluous  sons,  but  the  manufactured  fail- 
ures, in  the  shape  of  wry  mirrors,  rickety  tables,  and  other 
articles  that  no  one  would  have  anything  to  say  to  at  home. 

Ivy  Cottage,  furnished  under  the  double  disadvantage  of 
belonging  to  a  master  and  mistress  who  had  nothing  to 
exercise  their  taste  upon,  and  no  taste  to  exercise — the  one 
being,  perhaps,  a  consequence  of  the  other — might  have 
served  as  an  illustration  for  an  Australian  esthete  of  the 
depths  of  Philistinism  to  which  the  unregenerate,  unaided 
faculty  of  judgment  in  man  and  woman  may  arrive.  Every- 
thing it  contained  was  an  outrage  to  the  canons  of  the 
modern  conceptions  of  art.  There  was  a  black  horsehair 
sofa,  in  the  so-called  best  parlour,  that  pricked  all  the  vmpro- 
tected  parts  of  the  body  that  reclined  upon  it,  and  there  were 
hectic-cheeked  apples  and  peaches  in  wax  under  a  glass 
shade  upon  a  table  upholstered  in  green  and  white  beads. 
There  were  likewise  hideous  lithographs  of  Scriptural  scenes 
that  swore,  as  the  French  expressively  call  it,  with  the 
bilious  background  of  the  inartistic  wall-paper,  suggestive  of 
beetles  sprawling  upon  a  yellow  counterpane.  To  make 
matters  worse,  it  had  been  old  Mrs.  Frost's  ambition  to  act 
up  to  the  laudatory  words  of  the  twenty-seventh  verse  of  the 
last  chapter  of  Proverbs,  which  corresponded  to  the  date  of 
her  birthday,  and  which  declared  that  "  she  looketh  well  to 
the  ways  of  her  household,  and  eateth  not  the  bread  of  idle- 
ness." 

Having  made  a  sampler  of  the  aforesaid  text  in  parti- 
coloured words,  and  hung  it  up  between  the  painted  photo- 
graphs of  her  husband  and  herself,  she  set  about  proving  its 
applicability  by  manufacturing  a  set  of  chair-coverings  in 


46  NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

alternate  lozenges  of  green  and  violet  worsted.  The  result 
was  so  startlingly  incongruous,  that  even  to  her  own  untu- 
tored taste  it  was  necessary  to  tone  down  the  effect  by  the 
aid  of  crochet  antimacassars.  It  needed,  under  these  adverse 
circumstances,  all  the  severely  benignant  influence  of  her 
husband's  presence  to  lend  any  sort  of  home-like  dignity  to 
their  abode.  But  just  as  hats  and  coats  acquire,  in  the  course 
of  time,  something  of  the  individuality  of  their  wearers,  so 
the  inanimate  objects  that  surround  us  seem  ultimately  to 
reflect  something  of  our  own  personalities  to  those  who  see 
us  constantly  amongst  them.  The  stiff  crude  green-and- 
purple  arm-chair  in  which  Eila  was  accustomed  to  see  her 
father-in-law  seated  had  almost  the  solemnity  of  a  Solomon's 
judgment-seat  in  her  eyes.  She  would  never  have  thought 
of  mocking  at  the  sampler  that  her  mother-in-law  had  worked, 
even  in  her  secret  mind.  Reginald  was  the  only  person  who 
suspected  the  under-current  of  resentment  that  the  severe 
and  simple  rule  of  life  of  the  inmates  of  Ivy  Cottage  excited 
in  her.  She  would  not  even  allow  her  own  family  to  make 
merry  at  their  expense.  Their  standard  might  be  narrow, 
but  at  least  they  acted  up  to  it  themselves.  She  was  perfectly 
aware  that  they  judged  her  severely  by  it,  but  she  was  too 
loyal  to  avenge  herself  by  joining  with  her  brothei-s  and 
sisters  in  calling  them  prigs  and  frumps.  She  knew  that 
their  interpretation  of  life's  mission  was  quite  different  from 
that  held  by  herself  and  her  belongings.  For  all  she  knew, 
it  might  be  a  better  one  than  theirs.  It  was  harder  to  act  up 
to  under  every-day  circumstances  ;  but  when  a  crushing  ca- 
lamity, such  as  the  affliction  which  had  befallen  their  only 
son,  came  upon  the  elderly  couple,  they  were  enabled  to  bear 
it  with  a  certain  lofty  resignation  that  she  could  not  but  rec- 
ognise and  admire.  Her  position  with  regard  to  her  hus- 
band's parents  was  peculiar.  There  were  moments  when 
she  could  ahnost  have  found  it  in  her  heart  to  wish  that  she 
had  the  strength  to  act  up  to  their  standard ;  but  her  habitual 
feeling  about  them  was  one  of  secret  annoyance  that  they 
should  be  so  indifferent  to  the  qualities  in  her  that  seemed 
to  exercise  such  sway  over  other  people.  The  things  that 
counted  for  so  much  in  the  eyes  of  her  family  seemed  to  pass 


HOW  EILA  WAS  RECEIVED  AT  IVY  COTTAGE.   47 

unperceived  in  theirs.  She  had  a  vague  half -acknowledged 
sense  that  more  allowances  should  be  made  for  a  jjerson  in 
her  position,  who  was  young  and  pretty,  than  for  another. 
Neither  of  her  husband's  parents  seemed  to  hold  this  view. 
They  would  have  had  her  lead  the  life  of  a  recluse,  she  com- 
plained ;  she  was  not  even  sure  that  they  did  not  blame  her 
in  secret  for  running  over  the  hills  with  her  younger  brothers 
and  sisters  in  her  muslin-crowned  garden-hat,  and  house- 
frock  of  blue  cotton.  Evidently  they  thought  her  frivolous 
and  heartless.  "  But  how  can  I  change  my  nature  ? "  she 
would  say  to  herself  in  self-defence.  Her  thoughts  refused 
to  dwell  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  dreary  asylum  where 
her  husband  spent  his  tinie  m  mouthing  out  meaningless 
blasphemies.  Why  should  she  force  them  to  revert  to  it  ? 
Had  she  been  a  widow,  would  it  not  have  been  considered 
pardonable,  after  a  lapse  of  nearly  two  years,  to  smile  and 
laugh  when  the  occasion  offered  ?  And  surely  her  husband 
was  as  dead  to  her  as  though  he  had  been  lying  under  the 
churchyard  sod !  His  soul — his  very  self  had  gone  away. 
Nay,  had  he  been  dead,  she  could  have  clung  to  his  memory. 
Being  what  he  was,  she  could  only  pray  Heaven  to  keep  him 
out  of  her  mind. 

The  twilight  had  already  deepened  into  a  semi-darkness, 
beyond  which  the  horizon  looked  ghastly  white;  and  the 
silhouettes  of  distant  objects  were  pencilled  against  the  sky 
with  strange  distinctness  as  she  approached  Ivy  Cottage. 
The  lamp  was  alight.  Eila  could  see  the  reflection  through 
the  horsehair  blinds  that  fitted  into  the  window-frame  as  she 
walked  up  the  little  garden  entrance  over  the  flags  in  white 
sandstone  that  separated  the  geranium  bed,  on  one  side, 
from  the  rose  plot,  with  the  thyme  border  round  it,  on  the 
other.  The  scent  of  the  cut-out,  crinkled  geranium  leaves, 
with  the  sparse  lilac-hued  blossoms  sprinkled  over  them, 
always  brought  the  Ivy  Cottage  atmosphere  before  her  as 
something  oppressive,  having  a  faint  suggestion  of  musti- 
ness  in  its  perfume.  She  could  see  that  old  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Frost  were  at  tea — not  afternoon  tea  (a  frivolity  they  had 
never  sanctioned),  but  their  third  solid  repast  of  the  day, 
with  an  accompaniment  of  highly-varnished  fried  .smoked 


48  NOT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

trumpeter,  boiled  eggs,  muffins  and  crumpets,  and  grace  be- 
fore and  after.  She  hesitated  before  breaking  in  upon  this 
simple  repast.  The  front-door  was  of  wood,  covered  with 
paint  blisters — of  the  kind  that  the  idle  hands  of  errand 
boys  that  would  have  been  anathematized  by  Dr.  Watts 
found  it  fascinating  to  finger  and  press  down.  She  stood 
there  a  long  time  before  she  could  make  up  her  mind  to 
knock.  She  could  see  through  the  transparent  blinds  her 
father-in-law  lighting  his  pipe,  and  her  mother-in-law  drain- 
ing the  remains  of  the  hot-water  jug  into  the  tea-pot,  of 
which  the  contents  would  probably  serve,  in  their  doubly 
diluted  form,  for  the  maid-of-all-work,  an  orphan  from  the 
New  Town  Asylum,  whom  Mrs.  Frost  had  undertaken  to 
find  and  clothe  in  return  for  her  general  services.  If  mur- 
der was  treated  by  the  witty  De  Quincey  as  one  of  the  fine 
arts,  parsimony  as  a  fine  art  might  almost  have  served  as  the 
theme  of  an  essay  on  Mrs.  Frost's  housekeeping.  It  was  her 
aim  in  life  to  illustrate  the  truth  of  the  saying  that  "  enough 
is  as  good  as  a  feast "  in  the  smallest  details  of  her  domestic 
arrangements;  and  as  there  was  no  one — least  of  all  the 
New  Town  school  orphan — capable  of  giving  her  the  I'eplique 
in  the  words  of  the  more  generous  French  proverb,  which 
declares  that  "  Ce  qui  est  juste  assez  n'est  pas  assez,"  she 
went  through  life  in  the  firm  persuasion  that  her  economies 
erred,  if  anything,  on  the  side  of  liberality. 

Eila  hesitated  for  a  long  time  in  the  gloom  before  making 
up  her  mind  to  enter.  She  had  come  with  the  design  of 
giving  her  parents-in-law  a  hint  of  the  family  intentions; 
but  her  courage  failed  her  as  she  pictured  the  manner  in 
which  her  tidings  would  be  received.  A  journey  to  Europe 
was  a  project  that,  from  old  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frost's  point  of 
view,  should  be  considered  for  long  years  before  it  was  put 
into  execution.  It  was  a  matter  to  be  talked  over,  pondered 
over,  and  plentifully  prayed  over  by  turns.  Eila's  heart 
beat  high  with  disagreeable  anticipation,  when  she  knocked 
at  last  at  the  door,  and  entered  the  little  parlour,  after  be- 
stowing a  passing  smile  of  friendly  recognition  upon  the 
orphan. 

Old  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frost  looked  up  from  the  tea-table  with 


HOW  EILA  WAS  RECEIVED  AT  IVY  COTTAGE.  49 

staid  welcome  as  she  entered ;  the  welcome,  however,  was 
tempered  by  a  large  reserve  of  disapproval.  She  wore  the 
very  muslin-crowned  hat  she  suspected  of  figuring  as  a 
piece  de  conviction  in  old  Mi's.  Frost's  eyes,  but  I  fear  she 
had  forgotten  all  about  the  circumstance  now.  It  was 
pushed  far  back  behind  her  head,  like  a  white  aureole,  ex- 
posing a  natural  front  of  closely-packed,  waving,  silky  dark 
hair,  divided  by  a  gleaming  thread  of  narrow  white  parting. 
Her  thi'oat  was  bared  in  all  its  white  and  slender  perfection  ; 
two  white  and  red  roses  dangled  upon  her  breast,  fastened 
by  her  brooch  to  her  open  sailor  collar.  There  Avere  more 
roses  in  her  belt — a  boy's  belt — encircling  a  round  and  sup- 
ple waist,  guiltless  of  stays.  The  firm  contour  of  arms  and 
bust  was  apparent  through  her  washed-out  blue  cotton 
frock — her  house  attire,  to  all  appearance — in  which  she 
had  walked  across  the  hills  this  warm  summer  evening. 
Old  Mrs.  Frost  was  as  great  a  contrast  to  young  Mrs.  Frost 
as  crabbed  age  to  youth  in  its  springtide.  Her  appearance 
was  that  of  a  stout,  elderly  lady  of  a  not  over-indulgent 
habit  of  mind.  She  wore  a  black  lace  caj),  with  the  ribbons 
thrown  back,  and  displayed  thereby  a  large  double  chin. 
Her  customary  expression  was  one  of  surprised  displeasure 
— though  this  might  have  been  owing  more  to  the  peculiar 
shape  of  her  eyebrows,  which,  instead  of  descending  with 
age,  seemed  to  have  climbed  up  behind  her  spectacles,  than 
to  her  normal  mental  attitude.  She  had  no  doubt  been 
handsome  once  on  a  time,  though  in  a  hard  way.  Her  hair 
was  iron-gray,  and  abundant  still  beneath  her  cap.  Her 
skin,  puckered  though  it  was  by  the  hand  of  Time,  had  yet 
a  fresh-coloured,  healthy  hue.  She  did  not  look  as  though 
she  had  grown  more  tolerant  with  advancing  years,  rather 
the  contrary ;  and  it  was  probable  that  she  had  never  erred 
on  the  side  of  over-indulgence,  even  at  the  age  we  choose  to 
characterize  as  tender. 

Mr.  Frost's  elderliness  in  no  way  resembled  his  wife's. 
His  hair  and  beard  were  white  and  bristly,  his  face  was  red, 
and  his  eyes  were  a  bright  blue.  He  might  have  served  as 
a  perfect  impersonation  upon  the  stage  of  a  benevolent 
elderly  gentleman,  if  it  had  not  been  for  an  unexpected 


50  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

trick  of  dilating  and  drawing  up  his  nostrils  whenever  he 
emphasized  his  opinions,  a  thing  which  he  found  occasion  to 
do  at  least  a  dozen  times  in  the  day.  Young  people  found 
him  intimidating  to  talk  to  on  this  account.  They  were 
never  sure  whether  he  was  not  sneering  at  them,  but  he  was 
probably  unaware  of  the  gesture  himself. 

Eila's  parents-in-law  would  both  have  lent  themselves 
easily  to  caricatural  purposes,  from  the  fact  that  by  drawing 
two  angular  eyebrows  surmounting  a  pair  of  spectacles  to 
represent  the  one,  and  two  dilating  nostrils  surmounting  a 
pair  of  harsh  moustaches  to  represent  the  other,  a  complete 
suggestion  of  their  personalities  would  have  been  immedi- 
ately conveyed.  Mr.  Frost  was  very  careful  in  his  choice 
of  language.  All  his  phrases  were  uttered  with  a  careful 
deliberation  that  made  them  sound  as  if  they  had  been 
written  out  and  studied  previously,  but  his  omission  of  the 
aspirate  in  the  words  that  he  emphasized  most  strongly 
somewhat  took  from  the  dignity  of  his  utterance.  He  prided 
himself,  nevertheless,  upon  being  a  purist  in  the  matter  of 
pronunciation,  and  would  take  Eila  and  her  brothers  and 
sisters  to  task  every  time  he  detected,  or  fancied  that  he  de- 
tected, a  colonial  "  heow  "  or  "  keow  "  from  their  lips,  in  lieu 
of  a  mouth-filling  "  how  "  and  "  cow."  He  held  the  Bible 
and  Milton  to  be  the  only  worthy  deposits  of  the  knowledge 
suited  to  human  needs,  and  drew  largely  upon  both  sources, 
not  only  in  the  extempore  prayers  that  he  pronounced 
morning  and  evening  before  a  congregation  composed  of 
his  wife  and  the  orphan,  but  in  his  everyday  speech  as 
well. 

"Good-evening,  papa,  and  good-evening,  Mrs.  Frost," 
was  Eila's  hurried  greeting  in  accompaniment  of  the  move- 
ment by  which  she  presented  her  blooming  cheek,  cooled  by 
the  evening  breeze,  to  her  father-in-law's  bristly  moustache, 
and  to  her  mother-in-law's  withered  cheek  in  turn,  before 
seating  herself  upon  the  aforesaid  shiny  horsehair  sofa  in 
the  corner.     ''  I'm  not  going  to  disturb  you  for  long." 

"  You've  never  come  over  alone  ?  "  cried  old  Mrs.  Frost 
reprovingly.  To  open  a  conversation  with  the  young  by 
some   form   of  reproach  was  a  time-honoured  habit  with 


HOW   EILA  WAS  RECEIVED  AT  IVY  COTTAGE.   51 

Eila's  mother-in-law.  "  I  wonder  what  you  and  your  niother 
can  be  thinking  of  ?  " 

"  It  was  quite  light  when  I  started,"  replied  Eila  colour- 
ing. She  could  not  feel  it  was  like  telling  a  lie  not  to 
tell  the  ivhole  truth  at  this  moment.  "  It's  all  right  in- 
deed." 

"  Well,  now,  I'm  not  so  sure  it  is  all  right,"  interposed 
her  father-in-law  testily,  his  nostrils  receding  visibly.  He 
had  been  taking  a  preliminary  pull  at  his  pipe,  still  seated 
in  his  place  before  the  table,  and  was  looking  at  his  daughter- 
in-law,  not  quite  as  Wordsworth  looked  at  the  little  maid, 
whose  "beauty  made  him  glad,"  for  he  was  by  no  means 
sure  that  the  outward  graces  of  his  son's  wife,  situated  as  he 
and  she  were,  could  be  considered  altogether  as  a  matter  for 
rejoicing.  "  I  ain't  so  sure  by  any  means,"  he  repeated ; 
"  young  women  didn't  use  to  be  so  independent  in  my  day. 
D'ye  think  it's  seemly,  mother  ?  "  turning  to  his  wife,  "  for  a 
young  gentlewoman  to  go  roaming  the  country  alone  at  tliis 
hour  o'  the  night.  I've  'ad  occasion  to  remark  upon  it  to 
Eila  more  than  once  already,  but  she  don't  seem  to  listen 
to  me." 

He  gave  a  vigorous  puff  at  his  pipe,  inhaling  the  smoke 
with  unduly  open  nostrils.  Eila's  colour  deepened  visibly. 
What  would  she  have  given  for  the  courage  to  say,  "  You 
are  mistaken,  I  am  not  alone ;  Mr.  Acton  is  taking  care  of 
me  " !  But  moral  courage  was  not  Eila's  strong  point.  Be- 
fore physical  danger  she  was  brave,  but  she  shrank  within 
herself  when  there  was  a  risk  of  being  reprimanded.  Be- 
sides, if  she  were  to  avow  that  she  had  a  companion  now, 
after  concealing  the  fact  with  malice  prepense  at  the  outset, 
the  avowal  might  lend  a  colour  to  the  unworthy  suspicions 
that  she  half  suspected  her  father-in-law  of  harbouring. 
She  coloured,  therefore,  and  held  her  peace. 

But  if  Eila  was  silent,  old  Mrs.  Frost  made  full  use  of  the 
opportunity.  If  she  was  not  lavish  in  other  respects,  she 
was,  at  least,  unstinting  in  the  matter  of  bestowing  what 
she  called  a  piece  of  her  mind  upon  her  friends.  It  was 
such  a  large  piece,  and  she  gave  it  so  often,  that  the  wonder 
was  that  there  was  any  left  for  herself.    Upon  the  present 


52  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

occasion  Eila  was  made  the  luckless  recipient  of  this  lar- 
gesse. 

"  If  you  want  a  j^iece  of  my  mind,"  said  old  Mrs.  Frost 
very  angrily  to  her  husband,  "  I  don't  countenance  any  of 
Ella's  going-ons " 

"  Goings-on,  Martha,"  interrupted  her  husband  dictato- 
rially,  taking  the  pipe  out  of  his  mouth. 

"  Goings-on,  or  whatever  you  like  to  call  it,  it's  all  the 
same,"  said  old  Mrs.  Frost,  more  angrily  still ;  "  stravaghing 
over  the  hill  morning,  noon,  and  night,  that's  about  all  she's 
fit  for.  I've  never  seen  her  with  a  needle  in  her  hand  all 
the  time  I  can  remember." 

She  moved  the  teacups  with  an  angry,  rattling  noise,  as 
though  to  silence  any  disclaimer  on  the  part  of  the  culprit. 
But  Eila  made  no  disclaimer.  She  said  nothing,  indeed,  to 
exculpate  herself ;  she  sat  quite  still,  with  her  hat  on  her 
lap,  her  head  a  little  bent  forward,  the  least  suggestion  of 
scorn  in  the  bitter  half-smile  that  hovered  around  her  pretty 
lips.  She  was  glad  now  that  she  had  come  with  something 
to  say  which  would  divert  these  paltry  accusations,  heaped 
upon  her  by  her  Puritan  relatives,  into  another  channel. 
She  had  intended  when  she  came,  a  few  minutes  ago,  to  lead 
gently  up  to  her  startling  news.  Now  she  meant  to  hurl  it 
at  old  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frost  without  a  word  of  warning. 

"  Well,  I  won't  have  much  more  chance  of  stravaghing 
over  the  hill  for  the  present,"  she  said,  with  just  a  faint  in- 
flexion of  an  American  drawl  that  might  possibly  have 
been  adopted  for  the  occasion ;  "  for  I'm  going  right  away 
home,  and  mother,  too,  and  the  whole  lot  of  us,  before  the 
month's  out ! " 

To  a  very  acute  hearing  there  would  have  been  a  hint  of 
mingled  triumph  and  terror  discernible  beneath  the  covert 
insolence  of  her  tones.  The  old  people,  however,  heard 
nothing  but  the  announcement  itself,  and  it  had  an  effect 
which  can  only  be  adequately  rendered  by  the  expressive 
French  word  foudroyant. 

Old  Mrs.  Frost  was  transfixed  in  the  act  of  placing  the 
vertebrae  of  the  smoked  trumpeter  with  its  pendant  scraps 
upon   a   kitchen-plate   for  the   orphan's  supper.      Old   Mr. 


HOW  EILA  WAS  RECEIVED  AT  IVY  COTTAGE.   53 

Frost  stared  solemnly  over  the  pipe  suspended  in  his  hand. 
Both  looked  as  though  they  suspected  their  daughter-in-law 
of  having  taken  leave  of  her  senses. 

"  I  don't  fightly  apprehend  your  meaning,"  said  old  Mr. 
Frost  at  last,  still  eyeing  her  severely.  "  I  must  ti'ouble  you 
to  repeat  that  last  sentence  again." 

Eila  looked  up  and  returned  his  gaze  undaunted. 

"I  said  we  were  going  home!"  she  repeated  defiantly. 
"  We've  taken  our  passages  in  the  Queen  of  the  South.'''' 

Though  it  was  hateful  to  her  to  give  offence  in  any  direc- 
tion, once  she  was  roused  she  was  capable  of  maintaming 
her  ground.  Nevertheless,  the  angry  astonishment  depicted 
in  the  double  pair  of  eyes  directed  towards  her  was  more 
than  she  could  encounter.  Slie  looked  once  more  at  the 
carpet,  turning  the  muslin-crowned  hat  awkwardly  round 
in  her  lap  the  while. 

"  Well,  I  never  heard  the  like ! "  her  mother-in-law  ex- 
claimed with  a  gasp.  "  I  think  you  and  your  mother  must 
be  clean  out  of  your  mind.  Going  home,  going  to  leave 
Cowa  !  How  do  you  expect  to  pay  for  it,  I'd  like  to 
know ! " 

"  Yes,  that's  the  question ! "  broke  in  her  husband. 
"Where's  the  money  to  come  from  ?  " 

Their  attitude  was  that  of  accuser  and  judge  in  one.  But 
the  culprit  was  not  to  be  intimidated.  Perhaps  she  found  it 
easier  to  speak  now  that  the  gauntlet  was  definitely  thrown 
down. 

"  We're  not  going  to  ask  anyone  to  assist  us,"  she  said 
quietly ;  this  time  there  was  nothing  but  colonial  deliberate- 
ness  in  her  tones.  "  The  journey  will  be  the  only  expense, 
and  we've  saved  up  enough  for  that.  When  we  get  home 
we  shall  manage  well  enough.  We  won't  be  any  worse  off 
there  than  here.  Rather  better,  for  everyone  says  living  is 
less  expensive  in  Europe — in  England,  any  way.  Then 
Willie  can  look  out  for  something  to  do,  and  so  can  I,  and 
Dick  can  study  art,  and  Mamy  have  singing  lessons." 

"Well,  it  seems  you've  got  it  all  cut  and  dried,"  inter- 
rupted old  Mrs.  Frost  sourly ;  "  but  if  you  want  a  piece  of 
my  mind,  it's  my  opinion  you're  a  jjack  of  fools.     I  only 


54  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

hope  your  mother's  not  going  to  have  the  managing  of  it 
all,  for  your  sakes." 

Eila's  cheeks  flushed.  Never  had  she  been  made  to  colour 
so  often  within  so  short  a  space  of  time. 

"We  are  entirely  satisfied  with  mother's  arrangements, 
thank  you,"  she  said  quickly. 

Her  breast  was  heaving.  It  was  the  second  time  this 
evening  that  her  mother's  judgment  had  been  called  in 
question.  Why,  she  asked  herself,  should  she  be  so  fre- 
quently called  upon  to  do  battle  in  behalf  of  her  daughterly 
sentiment  ?  Why  should  it  be  enough  that  her  mother  har- 
boured the  idea  of  going  home  to  bring  ajiparent  discredit 
upon  the  scheme  in  the  eyes  of  everybody  she  spoke  to  ? 
How  unjust  and  narrow-minded  the  world  was,  and  how 
these  experiences  intensified  her  longing  to  escape  to  that 
larger,  freer  life  towards  which  her  aspirations  had  so  long 
tended,  far  out  of  reach  of  the  carping  criticism  to  which 
the  family  was  ever  subjected  in  this  contracted  little  spot 
on  the  very  outskirts  of  the  civilized  world. 

Old  Mrs.  Frost  was  not  silenced,  for  she  grumbled  some- 
thing that  sounded  like  "You're  as  great  a  fool  as  your 
mother,"  but  her  further  comments  were  stopped  by  her 
husband,  who  had  been  ruminating  the  speech  of  which  he 
now  delivered  himself. 

"As  regards  your  journey  'ome,"  he  said  (it  was  only 
when  he  was  solemnly  emphatic  that  he  discarded  the  aspi- 
rate so  resolutely),  "as  regards  your  journey  'ome,  there  is 
one  point  you  have  not  duly  considered.  Granting  you  have 
the  means,  which  I  take  the  liberty  of  doubting,  'ow  are  you 
going  to  get  the  necessary  permission  from  your  'usband  to 
absent  yourself  ? " 

Eila  looked  up  quickly.  What  she  saw  was  the  old  man's 
face  bent  forward  towards  her  in  denunciation;  his  eyes 
bluer,  his  face  redder,  his  nostrils  more  distended  than  ever. 
She  was  so  taken  aback  by  the  spectacle  that  she  continued 
for  a  few  seconds  to  turn  the  hat  round  without  replying  to 
his  question. 

"  You  think  it's  a  very  easy  thing,  no  doubt,"  he  contin- 
ued, with  grave  reproach,  "  to  turn  your  back  on  all  your 


HOW  EILA  WAS  RECEIVED  AT  IVY  COTTAGE.   55 

dooties,  though  it's  no  light  matter,  let  me  tell  you,  to  leave 
'ome  and  country,  and  become  wanderers  on  the  face  of  the 
earth.  But  you've  got  special  resi^onsibilities  of  your  own 
you  seem  to  need  reminding  of.  I  ain't  going  to  say  what  I 
think  of  your  mother's  conduct,  nor  yet  to  oft'er  her  my  coun- 
sel. She'd  be  nigh  certain  to  disregard  it  if  I  did ;  she  was 
ever  stiff  necked  and  rebellious  to  advice,  and  for  the  matter 
of  that,  none  of  you  are  much  better.  Still,  it  is  my  bounden 
duty  to  ofPer  you  a  word  of  warning.  I'm  in  a  kind  of  a 
way  the  delegate  of  your  husband's  authority,  and  I  forbid 
you  in  his  name  to  run  away  from  him.  What  call  have 
you  to  seek  to  put  twelve  thousand  miles  of  sea  between  you 
and  him  ?  The  Lord  in  His  mercy  has  thought  fit  to  afflict 
him;  He  has  laid  His  'and  upon  him  more  'eavily  than 
others.  Is  that  a  reason  why  you  should  want  to  desert 
him  ?  It's  the  reason  why  you  should  stop  quietly  at  home, 
if  you  were  anything  of  a  wife.  Stop  at  'ome,  and  cover 
yourself  with  sackcloth  and  ashes,  and  maybe  the  Lord  will 
see  fit  to  restore  him  to  you.  There's  no  saying  when  tlie 
burden  may  be  lifted  from  him  :  he  might  come  back  to  his 
right  mind  from  one  day  to  another.  And  what  do  you  sup- 
pose his  feelings  would  be  when  he's  told  that  the  wife  the 
Lord  gave  him  to  be  a  helpmeet  to  him  has  gone  away  in 
tbe  vain  pursuit  of  pleasure  to  t'other  end  of  the  world  ? 
'  Who  the  Lord  hath  joined  together,  let  no  man  put  asun- 
der.' Do  you  bear  in  mind  whex'e  those  words  come  from, 
Eila?" 

"  They  come  fi'om  the  Bible,"  replied  Eila,  in  an  off-hand 
tone. 

For  a  moment  she  seemed  to  reflect  upon  something  she 
had  it  in  her  mind  to  say,  for  there  was  a  little  frown  on 
her  forehead ;  her  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  faded  rosebuds 
stamped  upon  the  cabbage-green  background  of  the  worn 
drugget  at  her  feet.  Then  she  raised  her  head  resolutely, 
and  encountering  her  father-in-law's  severe  glance  in  full, 
said,  in  fu-m  tones  : 

"  It  is  better  to  speak  out  at  once,  Mr.  Frost.  You  have 
one  rule  of  life,  and  I  have  another.  We  could  never  look 
at  things  in  the  same  way.    I  am  afraid  it  would  be  as  im- 


56  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

possible  for  me  to  see  them  with  your  eyes  as  it  would  be  for 
you  to  see  them  with  mine,  especially  as  regards  my  duties  and 
res]50iisibilities.  I  have  duties,  I  know,  and  responsibilities 
too ;  but  they  seem  to  me  all  to  lie  in  my  own  home — my 
mother's  home,  I  mean.  If  I  had  any  other  home  it  might 
be  different,  but  I  haven't.  I  never  can  have  another.  If 
— if  my  husband  "  (she  pronounced  the  words  with  visible 
effort)  "  should  get  better,  it  would  be  my  duty  to  be  near 
him.  But  nothing — no  power  in  the  world — could  ever  in- 
duce me  to  live  with  him  again ;  and  as  things  are  now,  it 
is  not  even  necessary  that  I  should  be  near  him.  He  does 
not  want  me ;  he  does  not  even  know  me.  If  any  change 
should  come  later,  and  I  were  needed,  why,  I  could  be  tele- 
graphed for " 

"  Telegraphed  for ! "  broke  in  old  Mrs.  Frost,  with  an  air 
of  supreme  disdain.  "  Hark  at  her,  father !  That's  Eila  all 
over  !  We've  to  telegraph  for  madam  at  the  other  end  o' 
the  world,  and  every  word  costing  a  pound  if  it  costs  a 
penny,  and  we're  to  pay  for  it  out  of  our  own  pockets,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"No,  no,"  interrupted  her  daughter-in-law,  with  an  im- 
patient sigh  ;  "of  course  I  would  pay  for  it  myself." 

"  Oh,  you'd  pay  for  it  yourself,  would  you  !  "  cried  her 
mother-in-law,  angrier  than  ever.  "  Since  when  have  you 
had  money  to  throw  away  on  telegrams,  pray  ?  A  body 
might  suppose  you  had  a  gold-mine  of  your  own,  to  hear 
you  talk  !  And  you'd  pay  for  your  passage  out  the  same 
way,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  There  are  always  ways  of  coming  out,"  said  Eila  care- 
lessly. "  One  goes  as  comi^anion  or  nurse  if  nothing  better 
offers.  Anyhow,  we're  tired  of  this  place,  and  we  mean  to 
leave  it.  We  have  prospects  in  Europe — I  can't  tell  you  ex- 
actly what  they  are  " — old  Mrs.  Frost  sniffed  wrathfully — 
"  but  we  really  have  them ;  and  even  if  they  were  to  come 
to  nothing,  we  sliould  find  work  of  some  kind  to  fall  back 
upon.  I  should  not  mind  working  for  my  bread  in  Europe. 
I  could  not  do  it  here  ;  people  would  not  take  it  seriously." 

"  A  fine  lot  of  work  you'll  do,  I'm  thinking,"  observed 
old  Mr.  Frost,  with  a  backward  movement  of  the  nostrils 


now  EILA  WAS  RECEIVED   AT  IVY  COTTAGE.   5Y 

that  mightily  resembled  a  sneer.  "  You  won't  have  much 
thought  of  anything  but  vain  amusement  once  you  get 
away,  I'm  pretty  sure  of  that.  It's  pleasure  you're  going 
after,  not  work.     Don't  tell  me  !  " 

"  I  hope  we  shall  find  work  and  pleasure  too."  retorted 
Eila  quietly.  "  I  hope  we  may  learn  a  good  deal  and  enjoy 
a  good  deal  on  our  travels.  That's  what  we're  going  for,  at 
any  rate.  You  know  I  never  could  see  that  liking  to  do  a 
thing  was  a  reason  for  not  doing  it,  as  you  are  always  telling 
me  ;  it  always  seemed  the  best  reason  of  all  for  doing  it,  as 
long  as  nobody  else  was  to  be  harmed  by  it." 

"That  is  the  talk  of  an  uni-egenerate  soul,"  declared  her 
father-in-law,  shaking  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe  with  gloomy 
deliberateness.  "  If  you  took  any  heed  of  what  the  Scrij)- 
tures  teach  us,  you'd  talk  in  a  different  way.  What  are  the 
things  we  most  of  us  hanker  after  in  this  world  ?  Isn't  it 
the  gratification  of  our  carnal  desires  ?  And  because  we 
like  it,  is  that  the  reason  we're  going  to  give  way  to  'em  ? 
That's  the  devil's  plea,  not  the  Lord's.  What  was  the  pur- 
pose of  the  Almighty,  do  you  sujjpose,  in  sending  you  iuta 
the  world  ?  Wasn't  it  just  so  as  you  might  'ave  an  o^ipor- 
tunity  of  preparing  for  a  better  state  ?  And  how  are  you  to 
do  that  if  it  isn't  by  mortifying  the  flesh,  which  the  devil 
makes  use  of  to  lead  you  into  sin  ?  Mark  my  words.  When- 
ever you  set  your  mind  upon  an  earthly  object  you  may 
make  sure  it's  a  sinful  one.  It's  bound  to  be  sinful.  What 
you've  got  to  do  is  to  pray  for  strengtli  to  keep  your  mind 
from  dwelling  on  it;  you  must  lift  your  thoughts  from 
earthly  things,  and  fix  them  on  things  unseen.  Just  think 
a  minute  how  you're  placed  now.  Your  first  duty  is  to  your 
husband,  whom  you've  sworn  before  the  altar  to  honour 
and  obey — ay,  and  to  cleave  to  for  better  or  worse  till  death 
us  do  part.  There's  your  dooty — the  most  solemn  dooty  of 
all — clear  mapped  out  before  you :  '  For  better  or  for  worse  ' 
— if  you  can't  have  the  better,  you've  sworn  to  put  up  with 
the  worse.  But  what  have  you  got  it  in  your  head  to  do  ? 
The  first  temptation  that  comes  in  your  way  finds  you  ready- 
to  throw  your  dooty  to  the  winds,  and  go  gadding  over  tlxe 
world  in  search  of  your  own  amusement." 


58  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

"  Eila  was  always  fond  of  gallivanting',"  remarked  old 
Mrs.  Frost  parenthetically,  while  her  husband  paused  to 
take  breath. 

She  had  been  paring  the  small  square  of  butter  she  had 
transferred  from  her  own  plate  to  the  orphan's,  until  it  had 
assumed  the  consistency  of  a  mei^e  flake. 

"  Yes,  gadding  after  amusement,"  reiterated  the  old  man, 
solemnly.  "But  take  my  word  for  it,  if  you  go  'ome,  it 
won't  bring  you  happiness.  You'll  live  to  repent  it  in  more 
ways  than  one.  You're  going  tq  run  counter  to  all  the  laws 
hviman  and  Divine,  and  you  haven't  counted  the  cost. 
Maybe  you  won't  find  it  out  till  it's  too  late.  If  there  was 
no  other  objection,  there's  the  false  x^osition  you're  going  to 
put  yourself  in.  I  don't  mix  much  with  the  world,  but  I've 
seen  enough  in  my  time  to  know  what  I'm  saying  now.  I'm 
advising  you  for  your  own  good.  If  you've  no  thought  of 
your  husband,  you  might  have  some  for  yourself.  I  tell 
you  there's  nought  more  derogatory  to  the  dignity  of  a 
young  married  woman  than  to  go  roaming  over  the  world 
by  herself.  You  won't  have  such  an  easy  time  of  it  as  you 
think.  You'll  be  taken  in  right  and  left,  and  the  people  as 
you'd  like  to  be  friends  with  won't  have  anything  to  say  to 
you.  I  know  the  world.  Folks  won't  believe  as  there  ain't 
somethin'  in  the  background  to  hide  when  they  see  a  parcel 
of  women  wandering  about  by  themselves." 

Ella's  cheeks  glowed  with  indignation. 

"We  won't  be  a  parcel  of  women  by  ourselves.  We 
have  the  boys  ;  and  even  if  we  hadn't,  do  you  think  I  should 
mind  what  people  said  ?  If  they  were  so  narrow-minded  as 
to  think  that  a  lady  and  her  children — a  ividow  lady,  too — 
were  doing  anything  so  extraordinary  in  travelling  about 
just  to  please  themselves,  they  would  not  be  the  kind  of 
people  whose  opinion  we  should  be  likely  to  trouble 
about." 

"  They'll  make  you  trouble,  whether  you  will  or  not.  I 
don't  say  there's  anything  extraordinary  in  ladies  travelling 
a  bit  by  themselves,  if  they've  a  mind  to  see  the  world — 
though  I  think  they're  better  at  'ome  myself — as  long  as 
they've  got  a  settled  'abitation  to  go  back  to,  and  a  banker 


HOW   EILA  WAS  RECEIVED  AT  IVY  COTTAGE.   59 

to  draw  upon  to  pay  their  bills  ;  but  that's  not  the  case  with 
you.  You  know  quite  well  your  mother  is  going  to  break 
up  her  'ouse  without  the  means  to  set  up  a  fresh  one.  And 
when  folks  can't  afford  to  have  a  settled  'ome,  and  yet  keep 
shifting-  about,  do  you  know  what  the  law  calls  them  ?  It 
calls  them  vagrants — that's  what  it  calls  'em." 

He  was  so  angry,  that  his  nostrils  were  almost  like  those 
of  a  Japanese  mask.  He  had  not  thought  of  weighing  his 
words  before  he  delivered  himself  of  this  denunciation. 
Eila  was  angry  too ;  her  soft  dark  eyes  were  shining.  Twice 
she  essayed  to  speak,  and  when  she  broke  the  silence  at  last, 
you  might  have  detected  in  her  voice  a  half -hysterical 
quaver,  that  spoke  of  deeply-wounded  susceptibilities. 

"  You  have  no  right  to  call  us  vagrants,  Mr.  Frost,"  she 
said,  "  even  if  it  is  your  opinion  that  we  cannot  afford  to 
travel.  What  we  have  to  spend  is  our  own  affair,  and  as 
long  as  we  don't  ask  for  assistance,  it  is  nobody's  business  to 
criticise  the  way  in  which  we  may  choose  to  live." 

"  You  think  I  don't  know  what  you've  got  of  your  own, 
and  just  how  far  itll  take  you,"  replied  her  father-in-law, 
nothing  abashed.  "  You'll  be  begging  in  the  streets  before 
you've  done  ;  but,  as  I  said  before,  your  mother  is  a  head- 
strong woman.  As  long  as  I've  known  her,  she's  had  a 
down  on  the  colonies.  She's  always  been  what  one  may 
call  inimical  to  them  " — the  word  pleased  him,  and  he  re- 
peated it  with  emphasis — "  yes,  inimical  to  them.  Haven't 
I  heard  her  with  my  own  ears  deriding  our  native  produc- 
tions ?  '  Trees,  Mr.  Frost ! ' "  He  made  an  attempt  to  mimic 
her  mother's  voice,  of  which  Eila  feigned,  though  not  quite 
successfully,  to  appear  loftily  unconscious.  "  '  Ti*ees  !  you 
'ave  no  trees  in  Tasmania,  or  fish  !  Fish  !  I've  never  tasted 
real  fish  since  I  left  England  ! '  And  she  has  succeeded  in 
inoculating — yes,  in  inoculating  you  with  her  prejudices. 
You've  always  been  unsettled,  and  complaining  of  this  or 
that.  You've  none  of  you  known  when  you  were  well  off. 
And  now  she's  got  her  own  way  at  last,  and  she's  going  to 
drag  you  all  off  on  a  wild-goose  chase  to  Europe  under  the 
pretence  of  showing  you  the  world.  If  you're  wise,  you'll 
make  a  stand  against  it." 
5 


60  '   NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

"  What !  advise  mother  not  to  leave  Tasmania,  when 
we're  all  so  anxious  to  go  !  "  said  Eila. 

A  sense  of  the  utter  hopelessness  of  bringing  her  hus- 
band's parents  to  understand  or  sympathize  with  any  of  her 
own  individual  wants  and  aspirations  was  the  feeling  upper- 
most in  her  mind.  "  I  am  young,"  she  thought  to  herself. 
"  I  have  the  misfortune  to  be  cut  off  from  all  the  dreams 
that  girls  of  my  age  so  often  harbour.  I  must  not  think  as 
they  do  of  being  a  wife  and  a  mother.  If  I  meet  a  man 
who  seems  to  care  for  me,  as  Reginald  does,  I  must  force 
myself  to  remember  that  there  is  a  poor  lunatic  shut  away 
in  the  asylum,  whose  property  I  am,  and  to  whom  the  law 
gives  rights  over  me,  although  the  only  use  he  would  make 
of  them,  if  he  were  free,  would  be  to  strangle  me.  It  is  all  as 
hard  as  it  can  be.  But  there  is  still  a  home  life  into  which 
I  can  throw  myself.  To  travel  about,  to  see  Europe  with 
my  mother  and  brothers  and  sisters,  even  if  we  had  to  pinch 
and  scrape  a  little,  would  be  a  great  happiness.  And  these 
people  would  deprive  me  of  it  if  they  could,  and  take  it  as 
a  matter  of  course  that  I  should  grow  old  and  withered  in 
this  dreary  place,  with  all  my  senses  and  faculties  slowly 
starving  to  death  the  whole  time.  And  yet  Mr.  Frost  is  a 
good  man,  and  his  wife  is  a  good  woman  in  her  way,  and 
they  would  help  anyone  who  was  in  real  trouble,  I  suppose. 
And  me  they  would  coldly  condemn  to  a  life  of  wretched- 
ness and  stagnation.  They  would  not  even  be  able  to  un- 
derstand me  if  I  told  them  how  I  feel  about  it.  Why  is  it, 
I  wonder,  that  to  interfere  with  the  liberty  of  other  peoi^le 
seems  quite  justifiable  to  persons  one  considers  good  i  For, 
after  all,  what  wretchedness  it  may  cause  !  I  believe  it  may 
spoil  one's  life  far  more  than  deeds  the  world  considers 
wrong." 

"  What  would  you  have  me  do,  Mr.  Frost  ? "  she  said  at 
the  close  of  this  reverie. 

Her  voice  had  lost  its  offended  accents,  but  there  was 
something  dull  and  hopeless  in  its  tone.  Her  father-in-law 
crossed  over  from  the  tea-table  to  the  green-and-purple-loz- 
enged  arm-chaii*,  whence  his  utterances  always  seemed  to 
take  an  additional  ex-cathedrd  importance. 


HOW  EILA  WAS  RECEIVED   AT  IVY   COTTAGE.  61 

"  You  ask  me  what  I  would  have  you  do,  Eila  ? "  he  said. 
"Well,  I  would  have  you  take  the  stand  of  a  Christian 
woman.  You're  not  a  giddy  girl  any  longer,  or  you  oughtn't 
to  be,  any  way.  If  you've  got  no  heart  and  no  conscience, 
why,  then,  you  may  go  to  Europe ;  but  the  blessing  of  the 
Lord  won't  rest  upon  your  undertaking.  You  may  turn 
your  back  upon  all  your  responsibilities  and  all  your  doo- 
ties,  but  you  won't  rid  yourself  of  'em  in  that  way.  They'll 
pursue  you  wherever  you  are ;  they'll  rise  up  and  confront 
you  in  the  night-time ;  they'll  turn  into  nettles  and  sting 
you." 

He  paused  in  quest  of  a  fresh  metaphor  whereby  to  drive 
his  threats  home. 

"  But  how  can  they  pursue  me  if  I  don't  feel  them,  don't 
see  them,  don't  recognise  them  ? "  expostulated  Eila.  "  You 
tell  me  they  are  here ;  I  say  they  are  with  my  family." 

"  You  can  sit  there,  and  tell  me  your  first  duty  is  to  your 
family,  when  you've  got  a  husband  belonging  to  you  ! " 

"  But  I  haven't  got  one ! "  cried  Eila.  Her  lips  trembled 
as  she  spoke.  "  Do  you  mean  to  say  I  could  be  with  him 
now  ?    You  know  yourself  it's  impossible  ! " 

"  And  who  says  it's  going  to  be  impossible  next  year,  or 
next  month,  or  next  week  ?  The  doctor  '11  tell  you  he  might 
be  better  any  day.  Besides,  as  long  as  he's  within  reach, 
you  can't  put  him  out  of  your  mind  altogether ;  but  once 
you  turn  your  back  upon  him,  it'll  be  different.  When 
you're  three  or  four  months'  distance  from  him,  you'll  be 
like  to  forget  you've  got  a  husband  at  all.  Supposing  the 
Lord  should  work  a  miracle  in  his  favour,  and  restore  him 
all  on  a  sudden  to  his  right  mind,  the  first  thing  he'll  do 
will  be  to  ask  for  his  wife.  Why,  he's  got  his  intervals 
even  now  when  he's  rational.  Don't  tell  me !  he's  more 
knowing  than  folks  make  out.  He  knows  when  you 
haven't  been  nigh  him  for  ten  days  just  as  well  as  I  do. 
Ten  to  one,  if  you  go  away  altogether,  he'll  begin  to  fret 
after  you.  Don't  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  voice  of  his  old  fa- 
ther pleading  for  him,  Eila.  If  you  listen  to  what  your 
heart  and  your  conscience  bid  you  do,  you  won't  desert  him 
now.     Stop  along  here  with  us,  if  your  mother's  set  upon 


62  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

going.  What  she  does  is  no  business  o'  mine ;  I've  nought 
to  do  with  her  comings  and  goings.  She's  got  her  own  no- 
tions ;  it's  a  pity  they  ain't  the  sort  that  sensible  people  can 
approve.  But  that's  neither  here  nor  there.  Let  her  go  her 
own  way,  and  you  stay  behind  with  us ;  we'll  make  a  place 
for  you.  If  your  mother  turns  her  back  on  her  home,  your 
rightful  i)lace  is  under  this  roof ;  it's  nowhere  else.  I've  got 
my  responsibility,  too.  When  the  Lord  sees  fit  to  restore 
my  son,  I've  got  to  be  able  to  give  you  back  to  him  without 
any  misgiving.  I  must  be  able  to  say,  '  There,  my  son ; 
there's  yoiu*  wife  just  as  you  left  her.  Take  her  to  your 
heai't  again,  my  lad ;  she's  deserving  of  it — she's  your  true 
and  faithful  wife.' " 

He  stopped,  overcome  with  his  own  emotion,  and  looked 
at  his  daughter-in-law  with  quivering  nostrils.  Eila's  head 
was  bent ;  her  fingers  were  nervously  crumpling  the  muslin 
border  of  the  hat  on  her  knees.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed, 
and  there  was  a  threatening  humidity  in  her  downcast  eyes. 

"  Don't  tm'n  a  deaf  ear,  my  child,"  he  continued,  follow- 
ing up  the  advantage  he  had  gained,  and  too  much  moved 
himself  to  perorate  according  to  his  wont.  "  Listen  to  an 
old  man  who  hasn't  many  more  years  of  life  left  him.  It's 
the  voice  of  the  Lord  speaking  through  me  to  you,  Eila. 
You  may  believe  it,  my  child.  Your  mother  has  other  chil- 
dren to  keep  her  company,  and  they  haven't  any  other 
claims  as  you  have.  You  stop  here  quietly  with  us ;  you'll 
be  a  daughter  to  us,  and  the  blessing  of  the  Almighty  will 
rest  upon  you.  Who  knows  but  what  He  may  restore  your 
husband  to  you  in  the  end  to  reward  your  sacrifice  !  And 
you're  closer  to  him  than  to  anybody  else ;  you're  bone  of 
his  bone  and  flesh  of  his  flesh.  What  did  Ruth  do  when  she 
had  to  choose  between  her  husband's  people  and  her  own  ? 
If  you  like,  I'll  read  you  the  chapter  about  it  next  time  you 
come  over.  You  stay  here  with  us ;  you  won't  have  frivol- 
ity and  dissipation.  Leave  that  for  them  as  forgets  there's 
an  hereafter.  But  you'll  have  the  peace  of  the  Loi'd,  which 
passeth  all  understanding.  You'll  be  the  light  of  our  home, 
and  we've  been  lonely  enough  since  our  poor  lad  was 
afflicted.     Give  me  your  hand  upon  it,  my  dear,  and  go  and 


HOW  EILA  WAS  RECEIVED  AT  IVY  COTTAGE.   63 

kiss  your  motlier-iu-law,  who's  waiting  over  there  to  take 
you  to  her  'art." 

He  stopped  short,  and  for  a  whole  half-minute  Eila  sat 
motionless,  looking  at  the  gi-ound.  A  curious  struggle  was 
taking  place  in  her  mind.  A  fleeting  but  clearly  defined 
vision  of  the  consequences  of  yielding  to  her  father-in-law's 
importunities,  and  rushing  upon  a  life  of  self-imposed  sacri- 
fice hard  enough  and  bitter  enough  in  all  conscience  to 
exercise  the  sway  over  her  imagination  that  a  life  of  volun- 
tary martyi'dom  holds  out  to  us  in  our  moments  of  spiritual 
exaltation,  was  shaping  itself  before  her. 

As  she  sat,  her  imagination  filled  in  all  the  details  im- 
m.ediately.  She  saw  herself  arrayed  in  a  black  serge  frock, 
with  a  loosely  knotted  girdle  and  a  crape  collar,  moving 
about  this  hopeless,  hateful  little  house,  a  kind  of  domestic 
guardian  angel — weeding  the  geranium  plots,  cleaning  the 
kerosene  lamp,  making  pilgrimages  to  the  New  Norfolk 
Asylum,  reading  the  Sunday  Times  to  old  Mrs.  Frost  in 
the  evening,  and  fading  away  into  an  early  and  picturesque 
tomb,  or,  better  still,  a  funeral  iirn,  if  her  narrow-minded 
relatives  would  only  respect  her  last  wish  and  have  her  cre- 
mated in  j)reference  to  being  buried. 

But  before  the  half-minute  was  quite  at  an  end,  the 
mocking  and  sceptical  part  of  her  nature  was  scoffing  at  the 
mystic  and  enthusiastic  part  of  it.  Notwithstanding  all, 
she  felt  a  certain  secret  sense  of  triumph  at  the  evidence 
of  her  father-in-law's  desire  to  keep  her  under  his  roof. 
Though  even  this  was  not  enough  to  satisfy  her  entirely : 
she  would  fain  have  brought  him  to  own  that  she  was  right 
in  her  desire  to  go  away.  Eila  not  only  loved  to  do  as  she 
liked,  which  is  a  weakness  that  most  of  us  might  own  to ; 
she  also  loved  to  be  approved  in  the  doing  of  it.  She  felt  it 
would  be  a  drawback  to  her  satisfaction  if  old  Mr.  aiid  Mrs. 
Frost  could  not  be  induced  to  own  that  it  was  justifiable 
and  right,  to  say  nothing  of  its  being  pleasant,  that  she 
should  accompany  her  family  to  Europe.  But  how  was 
this  desirable  end  to  be  accomplished  ?  Their  points  of 
view,  as  she  had  truly  said,  were  wide  as  the  poles  asunder : 
or,  rather,  they  were  like  two  different  points  of  the  com- 


(54  NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

pass.  Theirs  had  the  icy  north  in  view.  It  was  that  of  an 
explorer  who  seeks  to  attain  the  ocean  of  eternal  peace,  lit 
by  the  lofty  Polar  star,  across  ice-bound  waters  and  deso- 
late tracts  of  snow.  Hers  pointed  to  the  warm  west — to  re- 
gions where  "  it  is  always  afternoon,"  and  the  traveller  may 
lie  and  rest  in  languorous  forgetfulness  of  what  lies  beyond. 
How  could  a  meeting-point  be  found  between  these  two  ? 
Nevertheless,  it  was  Ella's  desire  to  reconcile  the  irrecon- 
cilable. "To  know  all  would  be  to  forgive  all,"  says  the 
French  proverb.  If  her  father-in-law  could  but  know,  as 
she  knew  them  herself,  the  longings  that  beset  her  youth — 
the  craving  to  escape  from  the  sad,  monotonous  associa- 
tions of  her  present  clouded  existence — he  might  possibly 
find  excuses  for  her  in  his  heart.  But  what  could  his  seven- 
ty years  of  life,  with  all  their  boasted  experience,  know  of 
such  sensations  as  hers  ?  His  lozenge-tapestried  arm-chair, 
his  Bible  and  Milton,  his  pipe,  old  Mrs.  Frost's  comments 
upon  the  wicked  wastefulness  of  the  orphan,  answered  to 
all  his  requirements.  "I  can  put  myself  into  his  place," 
reflected  Eila  bitterly;  "why  cannot  he  put  himself  into 
mine  ?  Can  it  be  that,  when  one  is  young,  imagination 
supplies  the  place  of  experience,  and  that  it  is  really  easier 
for  me  to  understand  his  needs  and  feelings  than  for  him  to 
enter  into  mine  ? "'     But  aloud  she  said  : 

"  Don't  ask  me  to  make  up  my  mind,  please,  until  I  have 
thought  it  all  over.  Perhaps  I  might  not  stay  away  longer 
than  a  year.  In  any  case,  I  could  not  bear  to  disappoint 
them  all  at  home  now." 

"  And  what  may  not  happen  in  a  year  ? "  she  thought  to 
herself.  She  was  still  of  an  age  at  which  the  deferring  of  a 
question  for  a  whole  year  is  almost  tantamount  to  burying 
it  altogether.  "  Events  may  happen  that  may  change  the 
whole  iwsition  of  things !  And  it  will  be  so  easy  to  write 
from  home,  and  find  a  good  reason  for  not  returning,  if  the 
worst  should  come  to  the  worst.  So  much  easier  than  to 
find  a  satisfactory  argument  now !  Besides,  I  can't  argue 
with  my  father-in-law ;  we  start  from  two  different  stand- 
points. There  is  no  means  of  bringing  things  home  to  his 
comprehension.    I  should  have  to  make  a  complete  con- 


HOW  EILA  WAS  RECEIVED  AT  IVY   COTTAGE.   65 

fession  of  faith,  or  want  of  it,  and  array  Herbert  Spencer 
and  my  duties  to  myself  against  the  Scriptures  and  my  du- 
ties to  Mr.  Frost's  God.  There  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  tem- 
porize— and  a  year  is  soon  gone  by,"  she  remarked  suavely 
out  loud. 

"  Who's  going  to  pay  your  passage-money,  that's  what  I 
want  to  know  ? "  asked  her  mother-in-law  sharply.  Surprise 
and  displeasure  kept  her  eyebrows  suspended  high  over  her 
spectacles.  Two  conflicting  ideas  had  been  struggling  for 
supremacy  in  old  Mrs.  Frost's  mind.  The  first  was  the  con- 
viction that  the  housing  of  this  radiant-looking  girl,  whom 
she  called,  to  her  sorrow,  her  daughter-in-law,  would  require 
an  entire  readjustment  of  all  her  exactly  measured  domestic 
economies ;  the  other  was  the  calculation  that  if  the  money 
that  would  otherwise  be  wasted  upon  travelling  (for  travel- 
ling, for  travelling's  sake,  represented  riotous  wastefulness 
in  old  Mrs.  Frost's  eyes)  should  be  poured  into  the  Ivy  Cot- 
tage exchequer,  it  would  not  only  cover  the  required  read- 
justments, but  would  leave  a  margin  for  the  instituting  of  a 
"  stocking  "  for  future  emergencies  as  well.  "  Who's  going 
to  pay  your  passage-money  ? "  she  repeated  once  more. 
"  One  would  think,  to  hear  you  talk,  you  took  no  more  ac- 
count of  fifty  pounds  than  if  they  were  so  many  pebbles  ! " 

"  I  dare  say  I  could  save  up,"  said  Eila  doubtfully.  "  I 
mean  to  earn  my  living,  you  know ;  but  we'll  talk  it  over 
next  time  if  you  like :  I  shall  be  over  again  soon." 

She  had  risen  from  the  sofa  as  she  spoke,  and,  heedless  of 
all  remonstrances,  was  putting  the  muslin-crowned  hat  over 
her  forehead.  For  the  second  time  she  advanced  her  rose 
cheek  towards  each  withered  face  in  turn,  and,  without  wait- 
ing for  an  answering  good-night,  swept  out  of  the  room  that 
she  had  brightened  unconsciously  with  her  presence,  leav- 
ing it  to  the  undisturbed  occupation  of  its  prickly  sofa,  its 
worsted  settee,  its  prismatic  mantel-ornaments,  and  its  staid 
.and  severe  proprietors. 


QQ  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

CHAPTER  IV. 

REGINALD   MAKES  AN  AVOWAL. 

The  darkness  falling,  as  Longfellow  has  it,  "from  the 
wings  of  night "  had  settled  upon  the  prospect  while  Regi- 
nald was  waiting  for  Eila.  He  could  only  distinguish  now 
the  widespread  expanse  of  harbour  by  the  black  space  that 
rested  upon  it,  bordered  on  the  town  side  by  the  scanty  lights 
that  lined  the  wharves.  At  his  feet  the  town-lamps  twinkled 
in  long  irregular  columns  towards  the  dark  heights  around, 
and  away  upon  the  opposite  shore  he  could  faintly  discern 
the  feeble  glimmer  of  the  sparse  illuminations  of  Kangaroo 
Point.  Under  cover  of  the  obscurity  he  had  ventured  to 
creep  closer  to  Ivy  Cottage,  and  was  hanging  about  the  gate, 
like  a  thief  in  the  night,  when  the  muslin-covered  hat 
emerged  from  the  house.  The  transient  glimpse  he  had  of 
it  before  the  front-door  closed  with  a  bang  told  him  plainly 
that  its  owner  was  trying  to  beat  a  dignified  retreat.  The 
poise  of  the  head  was  more  erect  than  ever,  and  the  swift, 
decided  footsteps  he  heard  immediately  after  upon  the  stone- 
flags  coixfirmed  him  in  his  suspicion  that  young  Mrs.  Frost 
had  been  subjected  to  a  more  than  usually  distasteful  piece 
of  old  Mrs.  Frost's  mind. 

"  Come  quickly ! "  she  said,  feeling  Reginald's  presence 
more  than  seeing  it,  as  the  gate  was  opened  for  her  passage 
through  it,  "  or  they  will  be  sending  someone  after  us.  I 
did  not  tell  them  there  was  anybody  waiting  for  me  outside. 
Though,  of  course,  they  made  a  fuss  about  my  coming 
alone."  She  had  laid  her  hand  within  his  arm  as  she  spoke, 
and  was  walking  briskly  by  his  side  over  the  uneven  stones 
of  the  street  in  embryo  that  meandered  away  towards  the 
hills.  The  tacit  trust  in  him  that  the  action  implied  filled 
him  with  a  mute  rapture.  This  was  just  what  he  loved — 
that  she  should  take  possession  of  him  without  so  much  as  a^ 
"by  your  leave."  He  wondered  whether  her  arm  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  his  heart  could  feel  how  it  had  caused 
that  treacherous  nieniber  to  beat,  as  he  walked  silently  on, 
almost  afraid  to  speak  lest  he  should  break  the  spell.    "  Yes," 


REGINALD    MAKES  AN  AVOWAL.  67 

she  went  on,  as  he  kept  pace  with  her  footsteps,  rendered 
unconsciously  swifter  by  her  agitation,  "my  father-in-law 
opened  the  proceedings  by  lecturing  me  upon  the  proprieties ; 
but  he  forgot  all  about  them,  and  everything  else,  when  I 
told  him  my  news.  Of  course  it  made  him  angiy,  and  Mrs. 
Frost,  too.  But,  then,  they  see  harm  in  everything.  They 
make  me  feel  like  Topsy,  '  mighty  wicked  anyhow.'  If  you 
could  have  heard  how  they  tried  to  work  upon  my  feeliiigs 
to  make  me  stay  here  with  them  instead  of  going  home  ! '' 

"  I  knew  they  would  never  approve  of  that,"  said  Eegi- 
nald.  He  did  not  allow  himself  to  entertain  the  smallest 
hope  that  the  influence  of  the  Ivy  Cottage  inmates  would 
shake  her  in  her  resolution.  "But  is  the  matter  really 
settled  beyond  all  doubt  ? " 

"  Quite  irretrievably  settled ;  but  I  won't  say  irretriev- 
able, because  it  sounds  as  though  we  w^ere  talking  of  a  mis- 
fortune, whereas  we  are  really  aux  anges  at  the  prospect  of 
going  away.  Even  the  wiseacre  Willie,  as  you  call  him,  is 
almost  excited  for  once." 

"  If  only  the  anticipation  doesn't  turn  out  the  best  part  of 
it,"  said  Reginald.  "It's  a  cm'ious  fact,  but  I  do  believe 
your  mother  has  filled  all  your  minds  with  a  kmd  of  glori- 
fied image  of  England  that  will  make  the  reality  a  disap- 
pointment when  you  come  to  see  it.  Have  you  read  Plato  ? 
No  ?  You  know  what  his  theory  was,  anyhow.  I  am  sure 
that  you  imagine  England  is  like  Plato's  perfect  world — a 
place  that  contains  the  exemi)lar  or  archetype  of  all  that 
you  see  as  throvigh  a  glass  darkly  in  Tasmania.  I've  heard 
her  declare  that  the  fruit  had  no  taste  here,  and  the  flowers 
no  scent." 

"  Nor  have  they ;  the  wild-flowers,  at  least.  But  what 
do  you  think  ?  You  are  repeating  almost  word  for  word 
what  Mr.  Frost  has  been  saying,  only  he  did  not  mention 
Plato.  But  I  am  not  afraid  of  being  disappointed  in  Eng- 
land. The  only  trouble  is  that  we  shall  have  so  little  money 
• — between  three  and  fom*  hundred  pounds  a  year  at  the 
most.  It  won't  enable  us  to  live  in  the  lap  of  luxury,  will 
it?" 

"  It  isn't  enough,"  said  Reginald  gravely.     "  There  are 


68  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

six  of  you,  and  you  can  have  no  idea  of  what  it  costs  to 
travel,  especially  for  people  who  have  to  buy  all  their  ex- 
perience, which  is  often  the  most  expensive  part  of  trav- 
elling." 

Eila  was  silent  for  an  instant.  Though  it  was  too  dark 
to  see  her  face,  Reginald  felt  sure  that  there  was  a  half- 
mocking  smile  of  disclaimer  hovering  on  her  lips.  He  had 
seen  it  there  before  upon  occasions  like  the  present  one, 
when  she  set  herself  against  some  argument  or  representa- 
tion that  ran  counter  to  her  inclinations. 

"What  you  say  might  apply  to  other  people,  but  it 
doesn't  frighten  me  for  us.  I  don't  think  we're  the  same  as 
most  peoi:)le.  We  all  like  nothing  better  than  eggs  and 
bread-and-butter.  I  believe  we  could  live  upon  them.  And 
you  know  we  are  all  very  healthy  if  we  are  a  little  morbid. 
Mother  the  same  as  the  rest.  And  we  think  of  going  to 
Paris,  to  a  place  they  call  the  Quartier  Latin.  We've  been 
reading  all  about  the  places  the  students  live  in,  and  we 
mean  to  manage  just  as  they  do.  Won't  it  be  fun  ?  The 
houses  are  ever  so  high,  and  there  are  beautiful  little  flats 
to  be  had  for  next  to  nothing  quite  at  the  top.  That  would 
suit  us  exactly." 

"I  hope  they  won't  turn  out  to  be  flats  in  the  air,"  he 
said  grimly.  "  I've  never  been  to  Paris,  but  everyone  I've 
ever  met  has  led  me  to  suppose  that  it  was  one  of  the  most 
expensive  places  in  the  world." 

"Not  in  the  Quartier  Latin  part,"  she  interrupted  him, 
with  the  air  of  one  raost  entirely  familiar  with  the  place ; 
"  and  if  the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  do  you  think  we  should 
be  afraid  to  '  turn  to,'  as  mother  calls  it,  and  do  something 
for  ourselves  ?  I  mean  to  go  on  with  my  painting,  and 
Willie  must  find  employment.  Then,  Dick  is  going  to  be  a 
sculptor,  and  Mamy  and  Truca  must  have  lessons.  Mamy 
has  quite  a  Jenny  Lind  voice,  mother  says.  I  wish  we  had 
some  friends  at  home,  though.  I  wish  you  could  come  and 
see  us  in  our  flat." 

"  What !  I  ?  I  wish  I  could.  Perhaps  you  would  find 
me  work,  too.  But  I  haven't  a  Jenny  Lind  voice,  I'm 
afraid," 


REGINALD   MAKES  AN  AVOWAL.  G9 

She  laughed. 

"  You're  not  a  bit  convinced.  I  can  hear  it  in  the  tone  of 
your  voice." 

"  No ;  I  am  very  unhappy  about  you,  if  you  want  to  know 
the  truth.  It  seems  to  me  you  are  walking  delibex^ately  into 
a  trap  without  waiting  to  see  whether  you  will  be  able  to 
find  a  way  out  of  it." 

"  But  we  won't  want  to  get  out  of  it  if  we're  happy  in  it. 

Besides — besides "     She  paused.     "  I  wonder  if  I  were  to 

confide  a  great — a  very  great — a  tremendously  important 
secret  to  you — what  you  would  say  ?  They  would  never  for- 
give me  at  home  for  telling  you.  It's  the  kind  of  family 
secret  that  we  all  talk  about  at  home  in  mysterious  whispers, 
like  conspirators.  We  have  a  code  of  signals  to  explain 
when  we  want. to  talk  of  it.  I  told  you  about  our  going 
home,  and  that  thereby  hung  a  tale.  Well,  it  hangs  to  the 
secret,  and  as  you  are  the  only  person  out  of  the  family  I 
can  trust,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  about  it.  But  you  must 
pledge  yourself  to  the  most  absolute  secrecy  first.  What  is 
the  promise  that  is  the  most  binding  you  can  think  of  ? " 

"  My  word,"  said  Reginald  simply. 

"  Is  that  all  ? "  in  tones  of  disappointment.  "  I  thought 
there  was  some  oath  the  Freemasons  had  about  being  rolled 
eternally  in  the  flux  and  reflux  of  the  ocean's  tides." 

"  What  do  you  know  about  the  Freemasons  ? "  he  laughed ; 
"  but  I  will  give  you  my  hand  upon  it — there  ! " 

She  laid  her  soft,  ungloved  hand  (gloves  were  Eila's  aver- 
sion, excepting  upon  state  occasions)  within  his  own,  and  it 
required  all  his  self-control  not  to  clasp  it  in  both  his  own, 
and  tell  her  she  was  dearer  to  him  than  anything  else  in  the 
world,  and  that  the  thought  of  her  going  away  was  breaking 
his  heart. 

"  There  !  now  that  ceremony  is  over." 

She  had  returned  her  hand  to  its  place  upon  his  left  arm, 
and  was  allowing  him  to  guide  her  fearlessly  over  the  lonely 
track  that  led  across  the  hillside  to  her  home.  A  crescent 
moon  was  poised  above  them,  with  a  faintly- defined  watery 
globe  cradled  between  its  horns.  There  was  the  promise  of 
another  warm  day  in  the  faint  haze  that  obscured  the  stars, 


70  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

immeasurably  distant  in.  the  far-reaching  dome  of  the  Tas- 
manian  nig-ht  sky.  The  "one  particular  star"  that  Reginald 
worshipped  was  close  by  his  side  ;  but  in  another  sense  was 
she  not  as  remote  from  him  as  those  intangible  globes  over- 
head, that,  swinging  through  space,  fraught  with  unsolvable 
mystery,  seem  to  mock  the  dwellers  upon  eai'th  by  winking 
down  upon  them  through  the  black  void,  like  glittering 
eyes,  that  refuse  to  reveal  the  secret  they  hide  ?  The  joung 
man  felt  a  heavy  load  at  his  heart  as  he  reflected  how  soon 
this  bright  particular  star  of  his  must  vanish  from  his  hori- 
zon. And  how  entirely  her  life  would  be  separated  from  his 
own !  The  very  face  of  the  heavens  would  wear  another 
aspect  for  lier.  He  would  never  be  able  to  picture  her  walk- 
ing beneath  the  stars  upon  such  an  entrancing  night  as  this. 
Her  seasons  of  waking  and  sleeping,  of  heat  and  cold,  of 
rising  and  going  to  rest,  would  all  be  different  from  his  own. 
There  would  be  no  longer  any  possibility  of  community  of 
sensation  with  her,  such  as  even  at  a  distance  friends  in  the 
same  hemisphere  may  experience. 

And  who  would  watch  over  her  with  loyal,  unselfish  love 
in  that  new  strange  world  into  which  she  was  about  to  ad- 
venture herself  ?  Hobart  was  dull  and  contracted,  without 
doubt,  but  there  was  a  restraining  influence  in  the  very  con- 
traction of  its  social  atmosphere.  No  one  here  could  escajie 
the  eye  of  Mrs.  Grundy ;  and  though  Reginald  had  no  great 
esteem  for  Mrs.  Grundy  himself,  he  liked  to  think  that  the 
woman  he  loved  was  held  in  check  by  her  presence.  The 
occasional  revelations  he  had  had  of  tlie  Bohemian  instincts 
of  Eila  and  her  belongings  made  him  tremble  for  their  fu- 
ture in  Paris ;  besides  which,  they  were  all,  to  use  a  discour- 
teoixs  but  most  expressive  adjective,  gullible  to  a  degree. 
Whittington,  setting  out  for  London  to  pick  up  gold  in  the 
streets  of  the  great  city,  was  not  more  innocent  than  they. 
In  their  enthusiasm  for  all  things  European,  they  were  ready 
to  be  the  dupes  of  the  first  adventurer  they  might  encounter. 
Their  povei^ty  might  be,  indeed,  a  certain  safeguard,  but, 
then,  Eila  was  too  pretty  not  to  attract  notice.  He  wondered 
whether  she  liad  the  least  foreshadowing  of  the  dangers  that 
beset  her  path.    What  would  he  have  given  to  be  able  to 


REGINALD  MAKES  AN  AVOWAL.  71 

watch  over  her  like  a  kiiig-ht  errant  on  her  travels  ?  Here 
in  Tasmania  he  had  been  content  to  let  the  days  drift  by 
without  seeking  a  solution  to  his  position  in  regard  to  her. 
As  long  as  he  could  see  her  almost  daily — as  long  as  he  could 
believe  her  to  be  heart  free,  he  could  find  strength  to  Avait 
until  Time,  the  great  unraveller  of  destinies,  should  work 
out  an  issue  for  him.  He  did  not  even  ask  himself  whether 
Eila  was  aware  of  his  absorbing  love  for  her.  In  tho  peculiar 
I)osition  in  which  he  found  himself,  he  felt  that  he  must 
dread  any  kind  of  catastrophe  that  would  startle  her  out  of 
the  confidential,  almost  sisterly,  relations  she  had  gradually 
established  with  him.  She  must  know,  at  least,  he  told  him- 
self, that  he  was  in  her  power  to  do  as  she  pleased  with. 
There  were  days  when  the  very  frankness  of  her  liking  for 
him  brought  a  chill  of  terror,  lest  under  no  circumstances 
whatever  she  could  have  loved  him.  But  the  sweetness  of 
the  unconstrained  intercourse  brought  its  compensating 
charm,  and  upon  the  very  evening  when  Reginald  received 
the  crushing  announcement  that  Eila  was  to  leave  him  he 
had  been  schooling  himself  to  set  a  guard  on  his  lips  and  a 
bridle  on  his  tongue,  lest  by  some  unconsidered  word  he 
should  betray  the  passionate  nature  of  his  sentiment  for  her. 
And  now  he  learned  that  all  his  resolutions  would  be  in 
vain.  Even  the  brotherly  attitude  that  he  tried  so  valiantly 
to  maintain  towards  her  would  avail  him  nothing.  She 
was  going  away  from  him,  and  his  secret  would  remain 
locked  away  in  his  heart.  He  would  never  love  or  seek  to 
love  another  woman. 

"And  there  will  be  an  end,"  he  thought  to  himself,  "of 
all  the  hopes  that  I  had  staked  my  chances  of  happiness 
upon  in  this  world.  I  expect  I  shall  turn  into  one  of  those 
prosy  old  bores  who  live  in  rooms,  and  go  down  to  read  the 
papers  at  the  club  every  afternoon.  If  it  were  not  for  my 
mother,  I  would  go  to  sea  again.  It  would  need  less  courage 
to  jump  overboard  than  to  face  the  life  of  utter  stagnation 
that  I  see  stretched  before  me  in  this  dreary  place.  And  all 
for  what  ?  Why  must  I  see  the  woman  I  love  dragged  away 
to  a  shiftless  and  comfortless  existence  at  the  other  end  of 
the  world  ?     For  whom  and  for  what  are  two  lives  to  be 


^72  NOT   COUNTINa  THE  COST. 

sacrificed.  ?  Because  a  wretclied  maniac,  shut  up  in  the 
asylum,  is  called  her  husband.  It  is  a  monstrous  injustice, 
based  upon  a  false  principle ;  it  is  a  case  in  which  a  man 
should  make  use  of  his  common-sense — one  in  which  we 
ought  to  be,  as  St.  Paul  says,  a  law  to  ourselves.  .  .  .  But 
what  if  I  were  in  the  maniac's  place  ?  How  would  I  feel 
towards  the  person  who  should  take  advantage  of  my  mis- 
fortune— surely  the  worst  that  can  befall  a  man — to  steal 
my  wife  away  from  me  ?  A  man  in  the  possession  of  his 
senses  can  look  out  for  himself.  Besides,  madness  may  have 
its  term  like  any  other  malady.  How  would  I  feel,  in  the 
same  plight,  to  discover,  when  I  came  to  my  right  mind, 
that  my  wife  had  gone  over  to  a  rival  ?  But  if  I  don't  speak 
to  Eila,  others  will  be  less  scrupulous.  Who  knows,  though 
she  should  never  be  able  to  return  my  love,  whether  the 
knowledge  of  it  might  not  help  and  svistain  her  ?  To  know 
there  is  someone  absolutely  and  entirely  her  own  :  someone 
who  asks  for  nothing  more  than  to  be  allowed  to  put  all  he 
has  at  her  disjjosal — his  work,  his  purse,  his  very  life — and 
who  asks  for  no  other  reward  than  the  one  of  making  her 
path  a  little  smoother  for  her ;  someone  who  separates  her 
from  all  accidents  of  surroundings,  circumstances,  and  con- 
ditions of  life — nay,  even  frora  the  very  faults  or  follies  she 
might  fall  into ;  someone  who  loves  her  very  essence,  her 
very  being,  indejjendently  of  all  change,  physical  or  moral, 
that  might  overtake  it.  Surely  the  certainty  of  the  existence 
of  such  a  friend  as  this  ought  to  be  a  support  and  a  con- 
solation  " 

But  Reginald's  train  of  thought,  which  he  did  not  formu- 
late, however,  in  the  foregoing  words,  was  suddenly  broken 
in  upon  by  his  companion's  remark  : 

"Men  are  not  curious  like  women.  I've  been  waiting 
for  you  to  say  '  Do  tell ! '  the  whole  of  this  time." 

"  Well,  I'll  say  it  now — do  tell !  And  see,  we're  not  far 
from  your  home.  Is  not  that  a  light  moving  across  the 
veranda,  down  there  ? " 

Though  Cowa  was  on  a  hill,  they  were  standing  upon  a 
yet  higher  slope  of  the  same  mountainous  region,  and  look- 
ing down  from  it  they  could  see  the  dimly  defbied  outline 


REGINALD  MAKES  AN  AVOWAL.  73 

of  the  long-  quacli-ilateral  garden  running  sideways  down 
the  declivity.  A  faint  glimmer  in  front  of  the  squat  mass 
that  represented  the  house  was  the  light  to  which  Reginald 
had  made  allusion. 

"I  shall  never  have  time  to  tell  it  you  all  before  we 
reach  the  house,"  she  said. 

"  Not  time  !     Then  let  us  sit  here  on  the  ground  and  tell 

strange  stories  of  the  deaths  of  kings " 

"  Not  of  kings,"  she  laughed.  "  But  there  are  plenty  of 
deaths  in  it,  I  warn  you." 

She  had  seated  herself  as  she  spoke  upon  the  prone  trunk 
of  a  sawn  gum-tree  that  lay  in  readiness  to  be  carted  down 
to  town  the  following  day. 

Reginald  sat  next  to  her  on  the  same  trunk,  after  beating 
about  the  scrub  in  its  vicinity  to  make  sure  that  no  ambu- 
lant snake  had  taken  refuge  there.  Eila  pulled  off  her  liat» 
twisting  it  round  in  her  lap  mechanically  as  she  narrated 
her  story.  The  balmy  night  breeze  lifted  the  soft  rings  of 
hair  from  her  forehead  and  temples,  and  played,  cool  and 
gorse-scented,  round  her  neck.  Her  voice  had  unconsciously 
assumed  the  true  narrator's  tone,  and  Reginald  only  inter- 
rupted her  from  time  to  time  when  it  seemed  to  him  that 
the  details  of  her  story  were  becoming  more  picturesque 
than  precise. 

"  In  the  first  place,"  she  began,  "  you  know  the  Cheva- 
lier's portrait,  the  one  that  hangs  over  the  drawing-room 
mantelpiece  ? " 

"  The  Chevalier's  portrait !  Rather  !  "  he  replied. 
The  superlative  form  of  affirmation  was  not  employed 
without  sufficient  justification.  Who  that  had  ever  visited 
Cowa  Cottage  could  remain  ignorant  of  the  Chevalier's  poi'- 
trait  ?  It  was  an  oil-painting  of  the  end  of  the  last  century, 
and  its  bright,  classic,  somewhat  hard  perfection  of  design 
and  colour  seemed  to  point  to  it  as  belonging  to  the  school  of 
the  great  painter  of  revolutionary  times — David.  The  dress 
was  of  a  period  anterior  to  the  exaggerations  of  Merveilleux 
and  Incroyables.  It  was  of  the  accepted  decorous  type  of  a 
somewhat  earlier  period,  much  like  that  of  an  Usher  of  the 
Black  Rod  in  a  colonial  Parliament  in  our  own  day,  for  it 


Y4  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

consisted  of  black  satin  knee-breeclies,  and  a  black  satin 
coat,  with  glittering  buttons,  opening  upon  a  waistcoat  of 
the  same  material,  and  a  shirt  with  white  lace  ruffles  down 
the  front.  A  cocked  hat,  shoes  with  paste  buckles,  and  a 
dangling  sword,  completed  the  costume,  which  was  well  set 
off  by  the  aristocratic  head  of  the  wearer,  a  man  of  some 
forty  years  of  age,  with  smooth  fair  hair  drawn  back  into  a 
queue  behind  the  nape  of  the  neck.  This  painting  repre- 
sented Mrs.  Clare's  maternal  grandfather,  and  was  as  great 
an  object  of  veneration  in  the  Cowa  household  as  though 
the  latter  had  consisted  of  a  Chinese  family,  and  the  Cheva- 
lier's efR.gy  had  been  that  of  a  pigtailed  ancestor,  before 
which  they  were  accustomed  to  burn  candles  and  let  off 
crackers  in  token  of  their  everlasting  respect  for  it.  The 
sentiment  grew  intenser  with  tune,  for  the  longer  Eila's 
mother  remained  in  exile,  as  she  was  accustomed  to  call  her 
life  in  the  colonies,  the  higher  her  estimation  of  the  Cheva- 
lier's portrait  seemed  to  grow.  No  profane  hand  was  ever 
allowed  to  touch  this  sacred  icon,  and  the  Australian-Scotch 
servant  who  "  did  "  for  the  Clare  family  in  more  senses  than 
one,  would  i^resent  hei'self  upon  cleaning  days  to  Eila  with 
the  request  that  "  Mistress  Frost  wud  na  forget  the  chif- 
fonier." It  would  have  been  as  much  as  her  place  was 
worth  to  api^roach  a  sacrilegious  duster  to  the  picture  on  her 
own  respoxisibility. 

"Well,  but  do  you  know  who  the  Chevalier  was  ? "  con- 
tinued Eila,  with  a  dignity  that  betrayed  a  latent  sense  of 
resentment  at  Reginald's  emphatic  assertion  of  his  obvious 
knowledge  of  her  ancestor. 

"  Who  he  was  ? "  He  paused  for  an  instant's  reflection. 
"Either  your  grandfather  or  your  great-grandfather.  But 
he  couldn't  have  been  your  grandfather,  now  I  come  to 
think  of  it." 

"My  great-grandfather,  the  Chevalier  de  Merle.  It 
means  '  blackbird,'  but  that  doesn't  matter.  It  is  his  history 
you  have  to  follow  first.  He  belonged  to  a  French  family 
that  lost  their  estates  in  the  Revolution,  and  when  he  was 
a  young  man  he  went  to  India,  and  there  he  married  a  Be- 
gum ;  at  ""east,  we  believe  he  married  her." 


REGINALD   MAKES  AN  AVOWAL.  Y5 

"  So  you  have  an  Indian  ancestress ! "  exclaimed  Regi- 
nald. ''Dear  me!  wliat  a  number  of  things  that  accounts 
for  to  a  believer  in  the  theory  of  heredity  !  " 

"Does  it?  What  kind  of  thing-s  >*  "  He  could  imagine 
she  was  slightly  frowning  behind  the  curtain  of  darkness. 
"  You  have  sent  me  quite  off  the  track  now,  for,  naturally, 
it  is  more  interesting  to  discuss  one's  self  than  anji^hing  else. 
I  feel  I  can't  go  on  until  you  have  told  me  what  my  having 
a  Begum  ancestress  accounts  for." 

"  Do  you  really  want  to  know  ?  I  shall  have  to  be  per- 
sonal, only  perhaps  as  it  is  so  dark  you  won't  mind.  And 
then  you  needn't  take  all  I  say  for  Gospel,  either.  Perhaps 
you  haven't  studied  the  theory  of  heredity  ? " 

"  Not  much.  I  suppose  we  are  all  more  like  our  fathers 
and  mothers  than  anybody  else  ? " 

"  Or  ought  to  be,  according  to  the  popular  theory.  But 
physiologists  take  account  of  much  remoter  relationships. 
They  say  that,  reckoning  a  child's  parents,  together  with  the 
parents  of  those  parents,  backwards  for  ten  generations,  they 
find  that  two  thousand  separate  individualities  have  each 
had  their  influence  in  moulding  its  nature.  However,  these 
two  thousand  individualities  are  not  blended  in  equal  pro- 
portions in  the  child.  If  that  were  so,  we  could  reckon  up 
the  qualities  of  every  one  who  is  born  with  the  same  mathe- 
matical exactitude  that  we  employ  in  calculating  the  ingre- 
dients of  a  new  dish.  But  that  is  not  the  case.  There  is 
always  an  unknown  quantity,  or  there  is  one  particular  an- 
cestor who  gives  the  lion's  share  in  making  up  the  new  de- 
scendant. Then  we  have  a  case  of  atavism.  Yours  is  almost 
a  case  of  atavism,  but  not  quite." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  I  am  like  a  Begum  ? " 

She  was  laughing,  but  there  was  a  suggestion  of  dryness 
in  her  tones. 

"  Yes,  I  do  ;  but  a  Begum  grafted  on  to  a  European,  which 
is  something  very  different.  First,  there  are  your  eyes.  I 
have  lived  in  the  East,  you  know,  and  I  have  the  certainty 
that  nowhere  away  from  the  East  can  one  find  eyes  like 
yours.  One  nuist  connect  them  with  the  dark-skinned  races. 
There  are  all  kinds  of  eyes :  les  yeux  verts,  qui  menent  aux 
6 


76  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

enfers ;  and  les  yeux  bleus,  qui  vont  aux  cieux  (excuse  my 
pronunciation) ;  but  a  Begum's  eyes  are  quite  different. 
There  is  something  opaque,  and  dusky,  and  liquid,  and  in- 
describably soft  about  them ;  they  are  more  lustrous  than 
other  eyes,  and  yet  they  have  no  hardness.  Perhaps  it  is 
because  they  have  such  long,  silky,  sweeping  lashes.  In 
fact,  they  are  Oriental  eyes,  and  that  is  saying  everything." 

"  It  is  saying  too  much,  if  you  mean  all  that  for  my  eyes. 
But  I  hope  I  don't '  feature '  the  Begum,  as  Mrs.  Garth  says." 

"  You  do  in  your  hair.     I  can't  say  of  it : 

" '  It's  not  her  hair,  for  sure  in  that 

There's  nothing  more  than  common  ;' 

for  there  is  something  much  more  than  common  in  it." 
"  Oh,  we  all  have  good  wigs  in  the  family." 
"  Yes ;  but  yours  looks  sometimes  as  though  it  were  too 
heavy  for  your  head.  And  I  am  sure  you  may  thank  the 
Begum  for  the  way  in  which  it  clusters  and  waves  all  about 
your  forehead  in  those  silky,  shining  masses.  And  you  may 
thank  her,  too,  for  being  made  as  you  are — so  wonderfully 
straight  and  supple,  I  mean  ;  no,  more  than  supple  :  lithe  is 
the  word.  I  know  now  where  the  Red  Indian  stride  comes 
from  !  It  must  come  from  whole  generations  of  ancestresses 
who  carried  chatties  poised  on  their  heads.  Don't  be  offended. 
They  couldn't  all  be  Begums,  you  know;  and  I  am  going 
back,  far  back,  into  the  mists  of  time." 

"I  am  not  offended.  Far  from  it.  I  think  it  is  very 
amusing.  Only  we  are  not  perfectly  certain  my  great- 
grandfather did  marry  the  Begum,  and  that  is  where  the 
dreadful  part  of  the  story  comes  in,  for,  you  see,  he  had  a 
daughter  in  India,  who  was  my  grandmother — mother's 
own  mother.  Slie  was  taken  home  by  her  father,  the  Cheva- 
lier de  Merle,  when  he  returned  to  Europe.  She  was  quite  a 
child  then  still.  And  the  family  would  not  acknowledge 
the  Begum,  who  was  dead,  or  the  Indian  connection  at  all ; 
and  it  could  not  be  proved  that  the  marriage  was  anything 
but  a  Mohammedan  marriage,  if  it  was  even  that ! " 
"  If  it  was  even  that !  "  echoed  Reginald  doubtfully. 
In  his  heart  he  was  inclined  to  look  upon  the  title  of 


REGINALD   MAKES  AN  AVOWAL.  77 

Begum  in  connection  with  Eila's  ancestress  as  a  polite  figure 
of  speech.  The  old  Chevalier  had  probably  allowed  his 
fancy  to  be  taken  captive  by  a  seductive  Nautcli  girl  of  no 
acknowledged  caste  or  rank,  and  had  had  his  patei-nal  in- 
stincts stirred  to  life  by  the  child  born  of  the  liaison,  to  the 
point,  as  it  appeared,  of  bringing  her  away  with  him  to 
Europe. 

"But  he  brought  something  besides  his  daughter.  He 
brought  a  beautiful  precious  stone — a  ruby — that  had  once 
belonged  to  the  Begum,  and  that  ought  to  prove  that  she 
was  a  genuine  Begum,  oughtn't  it  ? "  continued  young  Mrs. 
Frost,  replying  to  Reginald's  unspoken  surmises,  almost  as 
though  she  had  had  to  contend  against  the  same  form  of 
misgiving  herself.  "  It  must  have  been  a  beautiful  stone, 
for  mother  has  an  imitation — but  only  an  imitation — of  it 
in  glass.  My  great-grandfather  especially  desired  that  this 
ruby  should  descend  to  the  Indian  branch  of  the  family,  to 
the  daughters.  It  was  my  grandmother's,  then  it  was  to  be 
my  mother's,  and  then " 

"Then  it  was  to  be  yours."  He  finished  the  sentence 
for  her. 

"  Yes,  but  that  does  not  matter.  One  would  not  think 
about  that.  But  I  am  going  to  show  you  how  it  ha^jpened 
that  our  branch  of  the  family  never  had  the  ruby  at  all. 
My  little  grandmother  was  put  to  school,  a  convent-school 
in  England,  and  my  great-grandfather  married  again ;  we 
all  say,  at  least,  that  it  was  a  second  marriage.  He  married 
an  Englishwoman,  too.  They  lived  in  England  after  that. 
They  had  left  France  for  good,  and  they  had  children. 
Well,  my  poor  little  grandmother  was  kept  very  much  in 
the  background  in  her  convent-school,  though  I  believe  the 
Chevalier  would  have  liked  to  have  her  very  often  at  the 
house.  One  day  he  died  quite  suddenly,  and  then  they  sent 
for  Maya — that  was  my  grandmother's  name — and  they 
made  her  feel  she  was  a  kind  of  outcast  now.  Her 
father's  second  wife  was  like  the  stepmothers  in  Grimm's 
Tales.  It  was  she  who  had  the  care  of  the  ruby,  and  who 
ought  to  have  given  it  to  my  grandmother.  But  what  do 
you  think  she  did  ?    She  told  the  child  to  choose  between 


78  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

this  heirloom  and  the  portrait  of  lier  father,  the  very  paint- 
ing- of  the  Chevalier  that  hangs  over  our  mantel-shelf  at 
Cowa.  Of  course,  poor  little  Maya  chose  the  portrait,  and 
cried  over  it  as  though  her  heart  would  break.  They  sent 
her  back  with  that  to  the  convent-school,  and  her  step- 
mother paid  for  her  education,  on  condition  she  should  give 
lessons  and  try  to  keep  herself  later.  And  she  did.  But  the 
very  first  place  she  Avent  to,  the  son  of  the  people  fell  in 
love  with  her.  She  was  married  to  him.  He  was  a  Uni- 
tarian preacher  called  James  Willett,  and  my  grandmother 
and  he  lived  in  London  after  they  were  married,  and  lived 
there  all  their  lives." 

"  And  your  mother  was  their  only  child  ? " 
"  The  only  one  that  lived.  She  married  our  father  in 
England,  but  they  emigrated  soon  after  to  Tasmania.  Her 
parents  were  both  dead  then.  But,  meanwhile,  the  De 
Merles,  the  collateral  branch — that  is  the  right  word,  isn't 
it  ? — my  grandmother's  half-brothers  and  sisters,  you  know, 
had  been  marrying  and  having  children,  too.  When  my 
mother  was  a  child,  she  used  to  hear  her  mother  speak  of 
them,  though  she  never  saw  them.  The  ruby  went  to  one 
of  them  called  Pierre,  and  after  he  died  we  believe  it  went 
to  his  son  Hubert,  who  must  be  over  forty  by  this  time. 
Where  he  is  now  we  don't  know.  It  seems  that  he  was  a 
wanderer  for  a  long  time,  and  that  finally  he  settled  in 
Paris.  We  have  never  been  able  to  find  out  exactly,  but  we 
have  a  plan  of  looking  him  up  and  making  this  proposal  to 
him.  Mother  thinks  he  would  be  only  too  glad  to  accept  it, 
if  he  has  a  conscience,  and  if  he  is  rich,  as  we  suppose.  We 
mean  to  propose  that  he  should  give  up  the  heirloom,  which 
was  intended  for  the  girls  of  the  family,  in  exchange  for  the 
original  portrait  of  the  Chevalier,  which  we  are  going  to 
take  home  for  the  purpose.  The  pictui'e  is  valuable,  too,  of 
course ;  but  perhaps  not  quite  so  valuable  to  us  as  the  ruby 
would  be,  considering  how  many  of  us  there  are  with  nothing 
but  mother's  little  income  to  depend  upon.  We  have  all 
our  plans  laid.  First,  we  are  going  to  discover  this  Hubert 
de  Merle,  then  to  show  him  the  picture,  and  tell  him  the 
whole  story.     We  have  family  letters — yellow  old  things. 


REGINALD   MAKES  AN  AVOWAL.  79 

folded  over,  with  tlie  address  outside,  and  no  envelope — so 
funny,  you  can't  think !  no  stamps,  either — and  these  will 
prove  that  our  story  is  a  true  one.  I  should  think  M.  de 
Merle  would  want  to  make  restitution  when  he  hears  all. 
He  would  feel  that  his  grandmother  had  taken  an  unfair 
advantage  of  ours — a  little  girl,  too.  Don't  you  think  he 
would  ? " 

"  He  might,"  said  Reginald  dubiously ;  "  but,  you  see, 
you  are  not  even  sure  that  he  has  any  existence  at  all  ex- 
cepting in  your  mother's  imagination.  I  don't  like  to  damp 
your  ardour  by  matter-of-fact  objections,  but  you  do  seem 
to  be  building  upon  a  very  shadowy  foundation.  Let  me 
see.  This  M.  de  Merle,  if  he  is  alive,  is  a  cousin  of  your 
mother's,  or  a  half -cousin  at  any  rate,  so  he  must  be  a  kind 
of  second  half-cousin  of  yours  ? " 

"If  he  acknowledges  the  cousinship  at  all.  But  you 
know  our  grandmother  was  really  cast  off  by  all  her  home 
connections.  So  the  only  credentials  we  have  are  the  Cheva- 
lier's portrait  and  the  imitation  ruby." 

"  But,  tell  me,  why  has  the  idea  been  taken  up  just  now  ? " 
objected  Reginald.  "  Did  you  never  discuss  it  in  your 
father's  lifetime  ? " 

"  Y — yes ! "  the  answer  came  slowly  and  with  evident 
reluctance.  "  We  did,  but  not  often.  Poor  papa  !  he  was  so 
wondei'fully  good  and  kind,  but  he  was  rather  matter-of- 
fact.  Mother  used  to  tell  him  he  was  what  she  called  terre- 
a-terre,  but  she  never  says  it  of  him  now.  However,  I  am 
afraid  he  looked  upon  the  ruby  rather  as  moonshine.  It 
was  his  opinion  that  we  had  no  legal  grounds  to  go  u]3on, 
and  he  said  we  had  better  not  let  our  imaginations  run  upon 
impractical  dreams.  But  mother  always  kept  the  story  in 
her  mind ;  she  thinks  M.  de  Merle  would  be  only  too  glad 
to  repair  the  wrong  he  did  (or,  rather,  the  wi'ong  his  grand- 
mother did)  to  our  branch  of  the  family." 

"  Why  doesn't  she  write  to  him  about  it,  then  ? " 

"  Well,  she  did  once  ;  but  how  can  one  be  sure  the  letter 
reached  ?  Besides,  what  is  writing  compared  with  seeing 
and  talking  to  people  themselves  ? " 

"  I  see  you  are  quite  of  your  mother's  way  of  thinking," 


80  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

said  poor  Reginald,  less  reassured  than  ever  by  this  new 
evidence  of  what  he  was  inclined  to  look  upon  as  almost 
crazy  optimism  on  young  Mrs.  Frost's  part ;  "  and  I  can't 
say  how  grateful  I  am  to  you  for  telling  me  the  whole 
story.  Especially  as  I  must  own  to  being  matter-of-fact, 
too.  I  can't  help  it.  A  primrose  by  the  river's  brim  was 
always  a  yellow  primrose  to  me,  and  nothing  else.  But 
now  that  you  have  trusted  me  so  far,  will  you  trust  me  a 
little  bit  farther  ?  I  have  my  secret,  too.  I  have  carried  it 
about  with  me  longer  than  you  could  imagine,  and  I  dare 
say  I  would  have  found  the  strength  to  carry  it  to  the  end 
if  it  were  not  for  this  sudden  news  about  yoiu-  going  away. 
That  seems  to  alter  everything.  Perhaps  I  am  not  justified 
in  telling  it  to  you  even  now.  I  cannot  say  that,  but  I  feel 
I  must  let  you  know  it.  Who  knows  ?  It  might  give  you 
the  confidence  in  me  I  want  you  so  much  to  feel  when  you 
are  away,  for  I  could  not  bear  to  think  it  would  be  out  of 
sight  out  of  mind  with  you,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned." 

"  It  could  never  be  that,"  said  Eila,  half  sadly  and  half 
playfully;  "I  shall  have  to  keep  my  father  confessor  in- 
formed of  all  I  do." 

"  Will  you  do  so  really  ? "  he  cried  eagerly ;  "  will  you 
tell  me  everything  that  happens  to  you  in  your  lettei'S  ? 
They  will  be  the  only  bit  of  happiness  left  to  me  after  you 
are  gone.  Must  I  tell  you  my  secret  in  so  many  words,  or 
have  you  not  guessed  it  long  ago  ? " 

"  No ! "  she  said  in  low  tones,  but  whether  in  answer  to 
his  first  or  second  question  he  could  not  have  told. 

"  I  may  tell  it  you  then,  though  I  think  you  can  hardly 
have  heljied  finding  it  out  for  yourself  long  ago.  Women 
always  know  when  a  man  feels  towards  them  in  that  way. 
You  must  know  that  I  love  you,  and  that  I  have  loved  you 
for  a  long  time,  from  the  day  we  met  on  Mount  Welling- 
ton, you  remember,  and  we  came  down  in  the  snowstorm 
together." 

He  paused,  as  though  waiting  for  some  sign  of  acknowl- 
edgment on  her  part.  A  soft  cloud,  blown  across  the  moon, 
and  stained  with  delicate  mother-of-pearl  tints,  had  cast  a 
deeper  shade  around  them  as  he  spoke.     In  the  semi-dark- 


REGINALD   MAKES  AN  AVOWAL.  g^ 

ness  he  perceived  tliat  she  was  lifting-  the  muslin-crowned 
hat  to  her  head.  It  was  as  though  his  confession  liad 
warned  her  that  it  would  be  wise  to  bring  their  moonlight 
interview  to  an  abrupt  termination. 

"  Do  say  something,  dear,"  he  whispered  humbly. 

"  What  is  the  use  ? "  she  said  half  plaintively,  slipping 
down  from  the  trunk  as  he  spoke,  and  standing  by  his  side 
while  she  leaned  against  its  projecting  branches.  "  It  is  a 
pity  you  have  said  what  you  did.  I  am  so  sorry  you 
said  it." 

"  Sorry !  Why  ? "  he  questioned  eagerly.  "  Why  should 
you  be  sorry,  my  dear  ?  I  love  you  so  entirely  and  utterly 
— so  through  and  through— you  can't  tell.  I  don't  think 
you  understand  even  now.  I  love  you  for  yourself,  Eila ; 
don't  you  see  what  a  difference  that  makes  ?  I  don't  love 
you  selfishly — as  men  are  supposed  to  love — for  my  own 
gratification.  I  know  you  are  out  of  my  reach — as  much 
out  of  it  as  the  moon  up  there  in  the  sky  ;  but  that  does  not 
alter  the  fact.  I  love  you,  and  I  shall  go  on  loving  you  to 
the  end  of  the  chapter — for  time  and  eternity,  if  there  is  an 
eternity.  And  what  influence  do  I  want  my  love  to  have 
upon  your  life  ?  Tell  me  that.  Do  I  ask  you  to  do  any- 
thing wi'ong,  or  what  the  world  considers  wrong  ?  What 
return  do  I  ask  for  a  love  that  will  last  as  long  as  life  itself 
— that  will  keep  me  not  only  from  marrying,  but  even  from 
looking  at  another  woman  as  long  as  you  are  in  the  world  ? 
I  think  you  are  shaking  your  head  ;  I  believe  you  are  laugh- 
ing— I  could  see  your  teeth  shining  just  now  in  the  moon- 
light. Well,  laugh  away ;  I  know  myself,  and  time  will 
convince  you,  if  nothing  else  does,  that  I  am  telling  you 
the  simple  truth.  What  return,  I  say,  do  I  ask  for  such  a 
love  as  this  ?  Why,  only  that  you  should  have  confidence 
in  me  always — always.  Do  you  hear  ?  Tell  me  all  that 
concerns  you,  dear.  If  you  are  in  trouble,  I  will  do  my  ut- 
most to  help  joti.  If  you  need  money,  I  will  send  you  my 
last  penny.  Supposing  you  should  have  an  illness,  or  some 
accident  that  spoiled  your  beauty,  you  would  always  be  the 
same  to  me.  I  want  you  to  remember  that.  I  go  farther 
still ;  for  I  believe  if  you  were  to  commit  a  crime,  and  all 


82  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

the  world  were  to  throw  stones  at  you,  I  should  not  be  able 
to  love  you  any  the  less.  What  can  I  say  more  ? "  He 
stopped ;  then  hurriedly  :  "  Yes,  there  is  one  thing  more ; 
and  you  will  forgive  me  for  saying  it,  because  I  love  you. 
I  cannot  tell  how  you  will  manage  to  steer  yoiir  course  in 
life.  You  have  no  chart  to  go  by,  you  know;  and  I  see 
rocks  aliead  that  you  can't  know  anything  about.  Well, 
just  remember  this :  Whatever  should  happen  to  you, 
don't  be  afi^aid  to  tell  me,  even  if  you  should  let  someone 
else  tell  you  what  I  have  told  you  this  evening— someone, 
we'll  say,  who  takes  a  different  way  of  telling  it  from  me. 
If  you  should— which  God  forbid ! — make  shipwreck  of 
your  life,  don't  keep  it  from  me.  Don't  even  let  shame 
itself  stand  in  the  way  of  your  coming  to  me." 

He  stopped  short  again.  Eila  felt  her  cheeks  burn  in  the 
cool  night  air.  Something  promj^ted  her  to  extend  her  hand  ; 
he  seized  it,  and  held  it  like  a  vice  in  his  nervous  clasp. 
The  pressure,  as  he  wrung  it  unconsciously  in  the  earnest- 
ness of  his  speech,  almost  made  her  cry  out  with  the  pain. 

"  Could  you  have  cared  for  me  a  little,  my  darling  ? "  he 
whispered.  "  But  I  have  no  right  to  ask  you  such  a  ques- 
tion. You  must  forgive  me ;  I  hardly  know  what  I  am  say- 
ing. What  I  want  to  impress  upon  you  is  that  nothing  can 
ever  change  my  feeling  towards  you.  It  seems  a  rash  vow 
to  make,  doesn't  it  ?  But  I  make  it  fearlessly.  I  put  my- 
self in  mind  of  the  hero  of  a  silly  old  melodramatic  play  I 
saw  somewhere  once.  It  was  j^layed  by  a  German,  I  re- 
member ;  he  used  to  come  rushing  on  to  the  stage  at  every 
critical  moment  with  the  word,  'Hee-re  I  am — stanch  and 
true  ! '  Well,  remember  here  I  am,  and  don't  be  afraid  to 
come  to  me  for  help.  I  know  you  so  well,  dear — better  than 
you  can  imagine ;  and  I  have  a  fatherly  and  brotherly  feel- 
ing about  you  just  as  much  as  a  loverly  one.  Will  you 
think  of  this  sometimes,  if  you  feel  tempted  to  do  anything 
rash  ?  Will  you  say  to  yourself,  '  There's  a  poor  old  fellow 
out  tliere  who  only  lives  for  me,  and  it  will  bi-eak  his  heart 
if  I  do  such  and  such  a  thing.  I  will  write  to  him  about  it 
first ;  perhaps  he  will  find  a  way  to  get  me  what  I  want.' 
Will  you  promise  me  this,  Eila  ? " 


REGINALD   MAKES  AN  AVOWAL.  83 

All  this  time  her  right  hand  had  lain  close  in  his  grasp. 
She  left  it  there,  and,  placing  of  her  own  accord  her  other 
hand  in  his  disengaged  right,  stood  fronting  him,  both  hands 
held  firmly  now  within  his  own.  Standing  close  to  him 
thus,  her  figure  bore  the  same  proportion  to  his  as  that  of 
the  maid  to  her  Huguenot  lover  in  Millais's  beautiful  pic- 
ture. Her  eyes  Avere  bent ;  ])ut  she  could  feel  that  he  was 
breathing  quickly  as  he  waited  for  her  to  speak. 

"  What  would  you  have  me  say  ?  What  ought  I  to  say  ? " 
she  began  at  last,  hesitating. 

"  Say  exactly  what  you  feel,  my  dear.  Don't  think  of 
ought ;  only  speak  as  you  feel.    /  love  you.'''' 

"  Then  I  will,"  she  said,  with  sudden  resolution ;  "  I  will 
speak  right  out  for  once.  No  '  shams,'  "  with  a  dreary  little 
laugh,  "as  Carlyle  calls  them;  only  the  truth  from  my 
heart.  I  like  you  to  care  about  me  as  you  do ;  it  will  be  a  help 
to  me — more  than  you  can  imagine.  And  I  care  for  you, 
too — you  may  believe  that  I  do ;  but  not  as  you  care  for  me. 
It  is  not  my  fault.  I  think  the  power  of  loving  in  that  way 
— the  faculty  of  it  altogether — has  been  somehow  destroyed 
in  me.  I  simj)ly  can't  recall  the  love  I  had  for  my  husband. 
If  he  were  to  come  back  to  me  cured  to-morrow,  I  should 
shudder  and  run  away.  I  have  been  through  experiences 
you  can  never  imagine.  Sometimes  I  think  they  have  made 
a  monster  of  me ;  for  I  like  to  be  loved,  and  I  like  people  to 
be  fond  of  me.  Perhaps  the  position  in  which  I  am  placed 
makes  things  so  different — the  knowing  that  I  am  not  free 
to  give  myself  to  anyone  I  might  care  about.  But  what  you 
have  told  me  this  evening  will  make  a  difference  indeed.  I 
shall  place  you  apart  now  from  everybody  else  in  the  world. 
I  know  you  are  afraid  I  am  not  quite  to  be  trusted.  Why 
do  you  have  that  feeling  about  me  ?     Tell  me." 

"  Did  I  say  you  were  not  to  be  trusted  ? "  he  said.  "  I  did 
not  mean  you  to  think  that.  But  you  have  a  curious  nature, 
Eila.  It  is  full  of  depths  for  me  who  have  studied  it ;  and 
yet  there  is  a  lightness  about  it  that  would  prevent  my  being 
astonished  at  almost  anything  that  might  happen  to  you. 
If  it  were  not  for  that  quality,  you  would  not  be  forced  to 
deplore  your  marriage  to-day." 


84  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

"  But  I  was  so  much  younger,"  she  murmured ;  and  then 
suddenly,  with  the  gesture  of  a  child  who  seeks  to  disarm 
the  reproachful  attitude  of  an  over-fond  parent,  she  raised, 
her  lips  to  his. 

"  Oh,  my  darling ! "  he  said  in  low,  passionate  tones— 
"my  darling!"  For  an  instant's  space  he  held  her  close 
pressed  to  his  heart ;  then  detaching  himself  with  an  effort, 
"  Eila,  my  love  ! "  he  cried,  "  it  is  well  you  are  going  away." 
His  voice  trembled ;  he  walked  away  from  her  in  violent 
agitation,  returning  once  more  to  her  side  with  rapid  foot- 
steps. "  We  will  go  back  at  once,"  he  said.  "  There,  your 
hat  has  fallen  off ! "  He  picked  it  up  in  feverish  haste,  and 
set  it  on  her  head.  "  What  is  that  saying  about  '  Qui  vent 
faire  I'ange  ? '  But  never  mind  the  rest.  Take  my  arm, 
little  girl,  and  hurry  along." 

He  led  her  on  swiftly  in  silence  for  the  space  of  a  few 
moments,  until  they  were  close  to  the  gate  of  Cowa  Cottage, 
visible  in  the  moonlight  as  a  white  break  to  the  indistinct 
outline  of  thick  hedge  that  ran  round  the  garden. 

"  Good-night,  and  good-bye,"  he  said,  and  so  vanished 
into  the  night. 

Eila's  cheeks  were  still  burning  as  she  walked  slowly  up 
the  garden-path  beneath  the  over-arching  branches  of  apple 
and  cherry  trees  to  the  veranda,  whence  the  sound  of  the 
family  voices,  raised  in  argumentative  parley,  reached  her 
through  the  darkness. 

"How  can  I  tell  what  I  might  feel  if  I  were  free!"  she 
repeated  to  herself.  "Does  Reginald  look  upon  what  has 
happened  this  evening  as  a  pledge  of  something  more  than 
friendship,  I  wonder  ?  I  hope  not.  How  could  I  help 
wanting  to  show  that  I  was  moved  by  the  offer  of  such  de- 
votion as  his ! " 

As  she  slowly  mounted  the  veranda  steps,  illumined  by 
the  light  of  a  lamp  standing  upon  an  outer  window-sill,  a 
little  girl  flew  toAvards  her  with  outstretched  arms. 

"Your  face  is  so  warm — so  warm  !  "  said  the  child,  di^aw- 
ing  it  down  towards  her  own,  with  both  arms  clasped 
around  her  sister's  neck.  "  Dick  told  us  Mr.  Acton  would  be 
with  you ;  but  you  are  all  alone.    What  will  mother  say  ? 


A  PECULIAR  FAMILY.  85 

I  suppose  you  ran  all  the  way  back  from  Ivy  Cottage  when 
you  found  it  was  so  dark  ? " 


CHAPTER  V. 

A    PECULIAR    FAMILY. 

For  a  family  whose  ways  were  peculiar,  there  could 
not  have  been  found  a  more  eminently  suitable  abode  (and 
I  say  it  without  any  punning  intention)  that  the  mountain 
fastness  of  Cowa,  which  was  just  such  a  natural  stronghold 
as  would  have  been  converted,  in  tlie  days  of  marauding  bar- 
ons and  robber  chiefs,  into  an  impregnable  citadel.  Its  in- 
mates, however,  were  never  driven,  even  in  the  earliest  and 
most  lawless  times,  to  entrench  'themselves  against  such 
aristocratic  aggressors  as  these.  The  only  historic  robbers 
that  Tasmania  annals  can  show  are  the  now  well-nigh  extinct 
race  of  bush-rangers,  who  a  few  centuries  earlier  might  pos- 
sibly have  laid  the  foundations  of  an  antipodean  aristocracy, 
but  whose  ultimate  fate  in  our  more  prosaic  age  was  most 
frequently  to  be  caught  and  hanged.  Had  defensive  meas- 
ures, however,  been  necessary,  Cowa  would  have  afforded 
every  facility  for  making  them.  The  long  veranda  in  front 
of  the  house  might  have  served  as  a  bastion,  whence  it 
would  have  been  easy  to  fling  stones  at  the  enemy  bold 
enough  to  climb  the  wearisome  slope  to  the  attack.  Even 
in  peaceful  Hobart,  and  in  the  peaceful  occupation  of  the 
Clare  family,  it  served  as  a  vantage-ground  for  purposes  of 
social,  if  not  of  warlike,  entrenchment.  Erom  the  veranda 
a  visitor  might  be  desci'ied,  as  Elijah  descried  Elisha,  from  a 
long  way  off,  and  hasty  measures  taken  for  planting  behind 
a  haystack,  if  he  were  not  of  the  order  whose  coming  was  to 
be  hailed.  Similarly,  steps  might  be  taken  to  receive  him 
becomingly,  if  the  inmates  decided  upon  being  at  home. 
The  ordinary  family  habiliments  were  of  a  kind  in  which 
they  objected — the  girls  at  least — to  being  caught.  Eila 
would  roam  about  all  day  in  her  faded  cotton  gown,  of 


SQ  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

which  the  erstwhile  hue  was  almost  as  difficult  to  discern  as 
that  of  the  draperies  of  those  archaic  polychrome  Greek  stat- 
utes that  have  recently  heen  unearthed  upon  the  Acropolis, 
to  the  great  joy  of  archaeologists.  She  was  rarely  seen,  it  is 
true,  without  a  magnificent  rose,  or  bunch  of  roses,  stuck  in 
her  waistband,  dangling  from  her  collar,  or  hairpinned  be- 
hind her  ear ;  but  even  South  Sea  belles  will  array  them- 
selves in  flowers,  and  in  all  other  respects  their  attire  is,  as 
we  know,  of  the  most  elementary  and  casual  description. 
Mamy  affected  blouses  in  season  and  out  of  season ;  they 
dated  from  the  epoch  when  her  dress  had  followed  the  same 
lines  as  her  brother  Dick's,  and  she  would  not  abandon 
them  now,  neither  would  she  forswear  the  boy's  cricket- 
ing-belt  that  held  them  round  her  supple  waist.  It  was 
in  a  garment  of  this  description,  frayed  and  strawberry- 
stained,  that  she  had  received  and  refused  her  first  offer  of 
marriage. 

Truca,  rendered  defenceless  by  reason  of  her  youth  and 
inexperience,  was  fain  to  accept  the  heritage  of  the  worn- 
out,  washed-out  frocks  of  mother  and  sisters.  Cut  short — 
much  shorter  than  she  liked — the  coloured  prints  that  had 
aired  their  pristine  freshness  on  the  persons  of  Mrs.  Clare 
and  her  elder  daughters  might  be  seen  whisking  about  the 
place  round  Truca's  stockinged  calves  throughout  all  the 
seasons  of  the  ensuing  year.  Truca's  only  thought  in  con- 
nection with  her  personal  appearance,  the  one  evidence  of 
self-consciousness  that  she  had  inherited  from  Eve  after  the 
Fall,  was  shown  in  her  sensitiveness  upon  the  score  of  the 
plumpness  of  her  nether  extremities.  She  cared  no  more 
for  the  make  of  her  dresses  or  the  browning  of  her  neck 
than  a  lily  of  the  field  or  a  gipsy  ;  but  a  system  of  banter- 
ing applied  to  the  calves  would  have  appealed  to  her  keen- 
est sympathies.  Her  sisters  and  brothers  made  their  girth 
and  solidity  the  subject  of  much  banter.  They  were  known 
in  the  family  as  the  champagne  bottles,  and  the  little  girl 
never  went  out  without  being  weighed  down  by  the  thought 
that  the  passers-by  were  laughing  at  them.  Knowing  that 
this  was  her  tender  point,  the  family  showed  the  considera- 
tion usual  in  families  by  levelling  pleasantries  at  them  upon 


A  PECULIAR  FAMILY.  87 

all  occasions,  until  the  desire  to  be  grown  up  and  to  "go 
into"  long  dresses  took  ardent  possession  of  Truca's  little 
soul.  She  had  her  metaphysical  moods  like  the  rest,  and 
was  still  in  tJie  lisping  stage  when  she  asked  piteously  why 
God  "thent  little  babies  into  the  world  when  they  couldn't 
tell  if  they  wanted  to  come."  She  possessed  a  collection  of 
small  wooden  dolls,  with  which  she  would  play  on  rainy 
days  after  a  fashion  of  her  own.  With  their  aid  she  would 
readjust  the  recent  chapters  of  history  she  had  learned,  turn- 
ing Lady  Jane  Grey  into  the  Queen  of  England,  in  lieu  of 
beheading  her ;  while  bloody  Queen  Mary  was  bound  to  a 
slate-pencil  stuck  upright  on  a  collection  of  bits  of  red  tinfoil 
stripped  from  the  necks  of  old  wine-bottles,  and  supposed  to 
represent  the  stake  and  faggots,  to  which  poetical  justice, 
dealt  out  by  Truca,  would  have  condemned  her.  Her  fa- 
vourite diversion,  however,  was  to  make  everybody  repent 
and  be  good— even  to  the  devil,  represented  by  a  black  doll 
enveloped  in  scarlet  flannel,  like  a  fireman,  with  a  black 
worsted  tail.  But  this  pastime  was  only  indvilged  in  on 
days  of  sleet  and  rain,  for  Truca,  like  the  rest  of  the  family, 
lived  in  the  open  air,  and  slept  in  it  too,  when  the  nights 
were  unduly  warm.  Her  favourite  friend  and  companion 
after  her  elder  sister,  who  taught  her  her  lessons,  was  her 
little  Jersey  cow,  between  whom  and  herself  tliere  existed 
the  perfect  understanding  that  only  mutual  confidence  can 
engender.  What  with  the  blouses,  the  faded  cottons,  and 
Dick's  sandalled  feet,  the  family  at  Cowa  regarded  an  un- 
expected visitor  very  much  as  simple  Galilee  must  have  re- 
garded the  Assyrian  who  came  down  like  a  wolf  on  the  fold, 
with  his  cohorts  gleaming  in  purple  and  gold.  Hence  the 
veranda  was  invaluable  as  a  post  of  observation.  There  was 
always  time  before  the  arrival  of  the  enemy  to  make  a  hur- 
ried clearance  of  litter,  to  throw  a  becoming  piece  of  crewel- 
work  (that  was  the  merest  stage  adjunct)  upon  the  veranda- 
table,  in  lieu  of  the  stocking  in  process  of  darning,  or  to 
substitute  a  school-prize  of  Longfellow's  Poems  for  the 
heterodox  book  in  course  of  reading.  There  was  time  for 
this  and  more,  for  it  was  a  long  pull  and  a  strong  pull  up 
tlie  hill :  and  even  the  least  enthusiastic  admirer  of  Nature 


88  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

found  frequent  occasion  to  pause  and  gaze  upon  the  view  in 
the  course  of  the  ascent. 

Another  advantage  in  the  position  of  the  homestead  was 
the  facility  it  afforded  for  retrieving  slips  of  memory.  The 
family  dwelt,  as  we  have  seen,  very  much  in  the  clouds — 
metaphorically  as  well  as  actually — and  it  was  no  unusual 
thing  for  the  person  who  was  going  into  town  for  the  express 
purpose  of  posting  the  letters  to  leave  them  lying  upon 
the  first  chair  to  hand.  When  this  was  the  case,  a  far- 
reaching  "  coo-ee  "  from  the  veranda  would  stop  the  emis- 
sary half-way  to  town,  and  Truca  would  skip  down  the  hill 
in  his  wake,  waving  the  letters  on  high,  with  the  speed  of  a 
fugitive  rabbit.  Signals  of  recognition  might  also  be  held 
out  to  a  person  returning  from  town  almost  before  a  "  coo- 
ee  "  could  reach  his  ears,  and  questions  as  to  whether  the 
bag  of  penny  tarts,  to  serve  in  lieu  of  j)udding,  had  been 
purchased  might  be  telegraphically  conveyed ;  while  signals 
of  distress  might  be  held  out,  should  the  answer  prove  to  be 
in  the  negative.  "With  such  advantages  as  these  to  boast  of, 
it  is  small  wonder  that  Cowa  was  esteemed  by  its  inmates, 
in  spite  of  its  inaccessibility,  and  perhaj)s  by  reason  of  it, 
as  the  most  convenient  place  of  residence  in  the  world. 
There  was  only  Eila  who  was  occasionally  heard  to  lament 
that  their  callers  were  so  limited  in  number.  It  was  in  the 
summer-time  alone  that  they  made  their  appearance,  when 
the  men-of-war  lay  at  anchor  in  the  harbour,  and  the  season 
of  strawberries  and  strangers  was  in  full  swing.  Then  pass- 
ing friends  among  the  officers,  or  some  chance  acquaintance 
from  a  neighbouring  colony,  would  make  their  way  up  the 
hill  uninvited,  and,  with  Eila  for  a  guide  (she  knew  every 
stone  and  landmark  upon  the  surrounding  heights),  and  the 
younger  tribe  for  counter-guides  (since  every  one  had  a  dif- 
ferent road,  leading  in  a  different  direction,  to  uphold),  the 
party  would  make  expeditions  to  the  mountain  fastnesses  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Cowa,  carrying,  the  one  a  kettle  to 
be  boiled  for  tea-making  purposes,  the  other  an  unlimited 
supply  of  matches  for  kindling  the  fire,  to  be  built  up  of 
scattered  brushwood.  Such  acquaintances  as  joined  in  these 
expeditions  were  welcome  to  all,  for  they  came  because  they 


A  PECULIAR  FAMILY.  89 

lilted  to  come  ;  and  more  than  one  carried  away  a  pang'  of 
reg-ret  for  the  "might-have-been"  after  picnicking  with  Eila 
and  her  brothers  and  sisters  upon  the  purple  heights  of 
Knocklofty. 

But,  well  as  the  Clares  loved  their  home,  they  loved  the 
land  beyond  the  seas  that  they  had  never  seen  even  better. 
From  their  earliest  infancy  they  had  been  imbued  with  the 
belief  that  Europe  was  the  earthly  type  of  that  "  better  land  " 
which  the  "  eye  of  man  hath  not  seen,  nor  liis  imagination 
conceived."  Though  the  finality  of  their  mother's  judgment 
respecting  all  things  in  heaven  and  earth  had  become  a  little 
fallible  to  them  since  they  had  arrived  at  years  of  discretion, 
they  gave  eager  credence  to  her  pictures  of  life  in  the  Old 
World.  To  shake  the  dust  of  Hobart  otf  their  feet,  and  see 
the  strange,  enchanted  regions  she  had  described  to  them, 
wherein,  according  to  Reginald's  ironical  simile,  was  to  be 
found,  as  in  Plato's  republic,  the  exemplar,  or  archetype,  of 
everything  they  saw — as  through  a  glass  darkly — in  Tasma- 
nia, was  the  one  hope  and  desire  of  their  lives.  None  but 
Eila,  who  had  learned  experience  with  her  one  year  of  house- 
keeping in  Victoria,  gave  thought  to  their  want  of  means. 
Whether  they  imagined  that,  like  Whittington,  they  would 
pick  up  nuggets  on  the  London  pavements,  or  that  they  had 
a  vague  impression  that  they  would  inhale  sustenance  with 
the  very  air  of  European  cities,  it  would  be  difficult  to  say. 
Mrs.  Clare's  enthusiasm  had  spread  to  her  children  almost 
as  soon  as  they  could  speak.  From  the  cradle  upwards  they 
had  been  taught  to  look  upon  the  land  of  their  birth — for 
which  they  had,  nevertheless,  the  instinctive  affection  that 
childish  associations  engender — as  a  place  of  exile  and  dur- 
ance vile.  It  would  have  been  against  Nature— against 
child-nature,  at  least — not  to  cherish  a  fondness  for  the  wild 
hills,  the  great  sloping  paddocks,  the  haystacks,  the  apple- 
trees,  the  cows,  the  pigs,  the  dogs,  the  fowls,  and  the  flowers, 
that  had  been  familiar  facts  in  their  lives  as  far  back  as  they 
could  remember.  But  they  set  no  conscious  value  upon 
these,  supposing  that  they  formed  part  of  the  normal  con- 
ditions of  life,  in  the  same  way  as  the  air  and  the  sunshine 
form  part  of  it.     When  visitors  from  England  admired  the 


90  NOT   COUNTING  THE   COST. 

magnificent  view  to  be  seen  from  the  Cowa  veranda,  and 
expatiated  upon  tlie  transparent  air,  and  the  clear-cut  out- 
line of  tlie  mountain  range  that  bordered  tlie  sapphire  waters 
of  the  liarboiir,  tlie  family  would  listen  to  such  comments 
with  wondering  incredulity.  Had  not  their  mother  told 
them  there  were  no  trees,  no  grass,  no  sylvan  beauties  here 
that  could  gladden  a  cultivated  eye  ?  What  could  people 
who  had  seen  the  ancestral  parks  of  England  find  to  admire 
in  the  wild  gorges  of  Knocklofty  ?  Their  secret  conviction 
was  that  people  admired  the  view  to  please  them,  just  as 
they  declared  that  the  Cowa  strawberries  of  Willie's  plant- 
ing were  the  finest  they  had  tasted..  They  believed  that  to 
have  been  born  and  brought  up  in  the  colonies  was  to  have 
endured  an  exceptionally  hard  fate.  But  now,  at  last,  the 
prosi)ect  of  escaping  from  their  southern  Siberia  seemed 
liively  to  be  realized,  and,  as  Eila  had  told  Reginald,  all  their 
thoughts,  all  their  dreams,  all  their  talk,  converged  to  the 
one  topic  of  their  journey. 

The  day  after  Eila's  visit  to  Ivy  Cottage  the  family  gath- 
ered in  tlie  veranda,  where  Willie  was  waiting  with  hammer 
and  nails  in  front  of  a  large  packing-case.  Looking  at  them 
in  a  group,  you  would  have  seen  at  a  glance  why  the  epithet 
of  "peculiar"  was  applied  to  them,  for  there  was  an  indefin- 
able suggestion  of  something  foreign,  exotic,  and  Creole  in 
the  api^earance  of  each  and  all. 

Mrs.  Clare  looked,  at  a  first  glance,  almost  as  young  as 
her  daughters.  Like  Lady  Jane  in  the  "  Ingoldsby  Legends,'' 
she  was  tall  and  slim,  and  possessed  the  kind  of  shoulders 
for  which  shawls  must  surely  have  been  invented  before 
Fashion  had  decreed  that  shoulders  should  be  made  to  look 
high  and  square.  Her  hair  was  black  and  shiny,  and  lay 
smoothly  against  the  sides  of  a  classically-shaped  head.  It 
was  only  upon  closer  inspection  tliat  the  sallow  fixity  of 
her  complexion  accused,  as  the  French  say,  her  maturer 
years.  Her  neck  had  lines  that  are  not  seen  in  the  necks  of 
younger  women,  showing  that  Time  was  already  tightening 
his  fingers  around  it.  Father  Time,  as  he  is  undeservedly 
called,  is  not  unlike  certain  earthly  fathers,  who  are  only 
caressing  to  their  ott'spring  in  early  youth,  and  who  press 


A  PECULIAR  FAMILY.  91 

heavily  u])on  them  as  they  advance  to  yeai's  of  discretion. 
The  longer  we  live,  indeed,  the  harder  he  lays  his  hand  upon 
us,  until  his  rude  touch  effaces  well-nigh  all  the  graces  he 
fashioned  for  us  so  lavishly  at  the  outset.  Mrs.  Clare's  face 
was  agreeable  to  look  upon,  in  spite  of  its  sallowness.  The 
eyes  were  bright  and  dark ;  yet  there  was  something  un- 
reachable about  them,  and  they  could  gaze  at  nothing  with 
the  obstinate  intensity  of  expression  of  a  visionary.  The 
])i'ofile  view  of  the  features  betrayed  a  certain  flatness,  sug- 
gestive of  Japanese  or  Mongolian  origin.  The  young  Clares 
adored  their  mother,  but  from  an  early  age  there  had  been 
a  tacit  understanding  among  them  that  her  moods  were 
not  to  be  depended  upon,  and  that  mother's  way  was  like 
nobody  else's  way.  Her  opinions,  as  Dick  had  declared,  rep- 
resented an  unknown  quantity.  It  would  almost  have  seemed 
as  though  each  branch  of  her  widely-diverging  ancestors 
exercised  a  kind  of  suj^remacy  over  her  in  turn.  There  were 
days  when  she  had  the  quick  intelligence  and  the  constitu- 
tional scepticism  of  her  grandfather,  the  Chevalier ;  other 
days  when  the  superstitious  instincts  transmitted  by  the 
Begum  appeared  to  take  the  upper  hand.  Upon  yet  other 
occasions  the  fund  of  conscientious  zeal  she  had  inherited 
from  the  Unitarian  minister,  her  father,  would  assert  itself 
aggressively,  and  she  would  set  every  member  of  the  house- 
liold  hard  at  work  upon  some  entirely  unprofitable  task.  In 
one  respect  she  was  like  more  ordinary  mothers  all  the  world 
over,  in  that  she  was  entirely  convinced  of  the  swan-like 
nature  of  each  and  all  of  her  goslings.  Dick,  however,  was 
her  favourite,  for  Dick  and  she  saw  the  world  through  al- 
most similar  glasses.  When  these  two  walked  out  together, 
people  would  look  after  them  in  the  streets,  and  the  uncom- 
prehending and  uneducated  would  laugh.  Dick's  black  hair 
hung  in  pot-hooks  round  his  neck.  No  persuasions  could 
induce  him  to  have  it  cut ;  and  his  mother  had  a  fancy  for 
jiutting  on  a  ribbon  or  an  ax^pendage  that  falsified  all  the 
rest  of  her  attire.  They  rarely  walked  out  together  without 
going  tlu'ough  a  preliminary  scene  with  Eila,  in  which,  by 
dint  of  coaxing,  scolding,  and,  if  the  titith  must  be  told,  of 
shedding  one  or  two  tears  of  genuine  vexation,  she  persuaded 
7 


92  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

them  to  allow  her  to  make  them  look  respectable.  Dick  and 
his  mother  assimilated  the  newest  doctrines  and  theories  of 
the  day,  and  applied  them  in  ways,  and  carried  them  to 
lengths,  that  would  have  greatly  astonished  their  origi- 
nators. 

Willie  and  Mamy  were  known  as  the  fair  ones  of  the 
family,  the  phrase  being  applied  strictly  to  the  hue  of  their 
skins,  for  Willie  possessed  but  a  modified  share  of  his  sister's 
good  looks.  He  was  shorter,  sturdier,  and  more  Saxon-look- 
ing than  the  rest.  It  was  his  constant  endeavour  to  sit  upon 
Dick,  who  though  taller,  and  possessing  more  promise  of 
moustache  in  the  dark  down  upon  his  upper  lip,  was  two 
years  younger  than  himself.  But  Dick  was  self-assured  with 
the  supreme  self-assurance  of  a  "  home-keeping  "  youth,  and 
would  not  allow  himself  to  be  sat  upon.  He  treated  his 
elder  brother  with  a  kind  of  lofty  condescension,  against 
which  neither  words  nor  fists  could  pi'evail,  and  laid  down 
the  law  to  his  mother  and  sisters  in  turn.  His  twin  sister, 
Mamy,  was  his  disciple  and  his  ally.  Between  this  pair 
there  existed  the  curious  community  of  sensation  that  is 
only  to  be  found  in  twins.  In  their  childish  days  to  punish 
one  was  to  punish  both,  and  as  they  grew  up,  Mamy  seemed 
to  be  half  boy,  and  Dick  to  be  half  girl,  when  they  were  to- 
gether. The  family  nose  was  the  weak  point,  and  was  much 
the  same  in  all.  It  was  not  a  finely-turned  feature,  and  was 
marrred  by  a  tendency  to  wide-spread  nostrils.  Dick's  lips 
were  also  somewhat  thick,  but  this  defect  was  redeemed  by 
the  gleam  of  such  teeth  as  only  the  dark-skinned  races  can 
show  when  he  smiled. 

Truca  was  an  autumn  bud.  She  had  been  the  surprise 
baby  of  the  band,  and  so  far  seemed  destined  to  figure  as  the 
ugly  duckling  in  respect  of  her  outward  appearance.  The 
defective  nose  was  exaggerated  in  her  case  into  a  snub,  and 
her  mouth  was  larger  than  was  strictly  becoming.  There 
was  a  warm  rustiness  of  hue  observable  in  her  hair,  her  eyes, 
and  her  complexion,  which  seemed  to  invest  her  with  a  kind 
of  bronze  aui'eole  when  she  sat,  like  Queen  Anne,  in  the  sun. 
She  had  a  highly-strung,  impressionable  nature,  and  would 
pause  in  her  play  at  a  very  early  age  to  run  and  be  kissed  by 


A   PECULIAR  FAMILY.  93 

mother  or  sisters,  with  a  wistful  expression  in  her  eyes  of 
Vandyck  brown,  tlaat  seemed  to  ask  for  reassurance  against 
the  thoughts  reflected  in  them.  The  Phantom  of  Fear  lurks 
behind  every  mystery,  and  what  is  the  very  consciousness 
of  life  itself  but  the  most  crushing  of  mysteries  to  the  dawn- 
ing intelligence  of  a  cliild  ?  Nevertheless,  there  were  times 
when  Truca  enjoyed  running  hither  and  thitlier  in  the  un- 
conscious joy  of  being,  as  behoves  children  of  her  age ;  for, 
like  Wordsworth's  little  maid,  she  "  felt  her  life  in  every 
limb,"  and  disported  herself  in  the  sunshine  in  obedience  to 
the  law  of  her  nature  as  instinctively  as  a  Shetland  pony  or 
a  young  kitten. 

That  there  was  a  solemn  function  to  be  fulfilled  in  the 
veranda  this  afternoon  w^as  evident  from  the  fact  that  the 
entire  family  was  assembled  there.  The  crude  light  of  the 
afternoon  sun  illumined  the  gi*oup,  irradiating  the  faces  of 
the  younger  members  and  hardening  that  of  their  mother, 
for  the  sun  is  masculine  and  knows  how  to  flatter  youth, 
while  he  is  sometimes  unnecessarily  severe  upon  those  who 
have  left  it  behind.  The  same  light  shone  down  upon  the 
large  packing-case,  and  upon  an  oil-painting  that  lay  at  the 
bottom  of  it ;  but  here  its  eft'ects  were  disastrous,  for  it  con- 
verted the  varnished  surface  into  indiscriminate  splotches  of 
shininess.  The  portrait  of  the  Chevalier  had  been  solemnly 
taken  down  from  its  place  of  honour  on  the  wall,  and  was 
about  to  be  nailed  down  by  Willie  in  presence  of  the  Cheva- 
lier's descendants. 

"  Mind  the  face ! "  said  Mrs.  Clare  fearfully.  "  Bring  me 
some  rags,  Eila.  We  might  lay  them  over  it  before  the  cover 
goes  on." 

"  He'll  come  out  like  a  mummy  ! "  observed  Dick,  as  the 
girls  brought  their  contribution  of  calico-strips  and  laid  them 
carefully  over  the  painting.  "  No !  I  know :  he's  like  a  fakir, 
and  we're  going  to  bury  him  for  three  months,  and  then 
bring  him  to  life  again  to  work  a  miracle  for  us." 

"  It  will  be  a  miracle  indeed,  if  he  gets  us  the  ruby,"  said 
Eila.  She  was  kneeling  by  the  case  and  gently  wiping  the 
picture  before  hiding  it  from  view.  "  Eyes,  look  your  last ! 
What  a  cui'ious  thing !  "  she  added  :  "  even  when  he  is  lying 


94  NOT  COUNTINa  THE  COST. 

on  his  back  his  eyes  seem  to  follow  us  about  just  as  they  did 
when  he  hung  on  the  wall ;  but  how  strange  and  crusty  the 
cheeks  look  when  you  are  quite  close  to  them !  I  wonder 
whether  the  painting  can  have  any  intrinsic  value  of  its 
own." 

"I  wonder!"  echoed  Willie.  "Say,  mother,  has  the  old 
man  any  market  value,  do  you  think  ? " 

"  Market  value ! "  echoed  Mi-s.  Clare  indignantly  ;  "  what 
a  way  to  speak  of  your  great-grandfather,  Willie  !  You  are 
as  bad  as  the  young  spendthrift  in  the  play  who  wanted  to 
sell  his  ancestors." 

"  Well,  we're  going  to  sell  the  Chevalier  for  what  he'll 
fetch,  aren't  we  ? " 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind,"  rejoined  his  mother ;  "  we're  not 
going  to  part  with  him  out  of  the  family.  I  have  always 
looked  upon  that  picture  as  a  kind  of  pledge,  a  proof  that  we 
are  the  rightful  heirs  of  the  ruby  your  great-grandfather 
left  to  your  grandmother — my  very  own  mother.  The  por- 
trait will  pass  into  the  hands  of  another  branch  of  the  family, 
but  only  for  a  time,  I  hope.  Dick  will  buy  it  back  for  us 
before  long." 

Dick's  only  comment  upon  this  remark  was  a  self-confi- 
dent smile.  It  was  a  generally  accepted  thing  in  the  family 
that  Dick's  talent  would  enable  him  to  become  rich  speedily. 
A  few  months  under  some  master  in  London  or  Paris,  just 
to  get  his  hand  in,  and  then  he  would  do  busts  at  the  rate  at 
which  the  greatest  sculptors  did  them,  and  make  a  rapid 
fortune. 

"I  expect  the  picture  has  a  value  of  its  own,  all  the 
same,"  he  said,  in  an  assured  voice. 

"You  may  be  sure  it  has,"  asserted  Mrs.  Clare.  "Of 
coui-se,  there  is  nobody  here  who  could  appreciate  it ;  but,  I 
believe,  any  sum  would  be  given  for  it  at  home.  What  was 
that  you  were  telling  me  the  other  day,  Willie,  about  sev- 
enty thovisand  pounds  being  paid  for  some  old  picture — 
nothing  but  a  portrait,  too  ?  or  was  it  seventeen  ?  It  was 
seven  something,  I  know." 

"It  was  seventy,"  said  Willie — "seventy  thousand 
pounds ;  but  it  was  the  work  of  an  old  master." 


A  PECULIAR  FAMILY.  95 

"  Well,  the  Chevalier  is  getting  to  be  an  old  master,  isn't 
he,  nicither  ? "  said  Maniy,  moved  by  a  desire  to  conciliate 
her  favourite  brother.  "  Isn't  it  more  than  a  hundred  years 
old?" 

"What!  older  than  the  oldest  building  in  Tasmania?" 
said  Eila  ?    "  How  wonderful  that  would  seem ! " 

"  But  not  so  old  as  the  Tower  we're  going  to  see  in  Eng- 
land," chanted  Truca — "  the  Tower  and  the  block.  Oh,  I  do 
feel  so  impatient ;  I  want  to  be  there  now ! " 

"But  what  would  we  do  if  Mr.  de  Merle  would  have 
nothing  to  say  to  us  when  we  get  home  ?  "  put  in  Eila  medi- 
tatively. 

"  No  risk  of  that  when  we've  made  ourselves  known  to 
him,"  said  Mrs.  Clare  confidently;  "my  only  fear  is  that  he 
will  want  to  adopt  all  of  you  children  at  once,  and  I  would 
rather  we  kept  our  independence.  Now,  Willie,  you  may 
close  up  the  case ;  the  picture  is  protected  enough,  I  think." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence  as  the  boys  adjusted  the 
cover  and  Willie  hammered  in  the  first  nail.  It  was  really 
as  Dick  had  said,  as  though  they  were  nailing  up  the  Chev- 
alier in  his  coffin.  He  had  been  a  living  presence  among 
them  for  as  long  as  they  could  remember.  From  the  time 
that  they  had  been  aware  of  knowing  right  from  wrong,  his 
face  had  always  seemed  to  wear  a  stern  or  a  smiling  expres- 
sion, following  the  verdict  uttered  by  their  separate  con- 
sciences. He  was  a  link,  too,  with  that  strange,  impalpable 
past  whose  existence  it  was  so  hard  to  realize  in  Tasmania. 
Of  their  ancestors  on  their  father's  side  they  had  no  knowl- 
edge, and  very  little  curiosity.  Mrs.  Clare's  individuality 
had  so  effectually  impressed  itself  upon  her  children,  that 
they  constituted  what  might  be  called  a  one-sided  progeny. 
She  had  kept  for  herself  the  part  of  the  queen  bee  in  the 
domestic  hive,  and  though  Mr.  Clare  had  been  no  drone, 
and  had  worked  with  patient  self-effacement  to  secure  his 
family  from  want,  he  had  been  constrained  to  play  what  is 
commonly  called  "  second  fiddle  "  to  his  spouse.  His  quiet, 
kindly,  matter-of-fact  presence  had  been  missed  and  mourned 
for,  but  not  passionately  yearned  after.  The  children  had 
never  felt  about  their  father  as  they  felt  about  their  mother, 


96  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

that  life  would  not  be  possible  without  him.  They  had 
never  cared  to  hear  about  the  humdrum  records  of  his  early 
life  at  the  Custom  House  in  Tasmania.  They  were  secretly 
a  little  ashamed  of  their  connection  with  his  brother,  their 
uncle,  who  Avas  nothing  but  a  homely  country  store-keeper 
living  near  Oatlands.  Willie  had  been  wont  to  spend  his 
holidays  with  this  relative  in  his  school-days,  and  would 
have  liked  to  hold  forth  upon  the  incidents  of  his  stay  on 
his  return,  to  boast  of  the  opossums  he  had  shot,  and  the 
fences  he  had  jumped,  and  the  bu^h-buggy  he  had  driven 
round  with  half-chests  of  tea  and  boxes  of  soap  and  candles 
to  be  left  at  the  houses  of  the  customers.  But  his  mother's 
face  had  checked  the  flow  of  his  narrative.  It  made  him 
think,  he  could  not  tell  why,  of  the  Chevalier's  queue  and 
sword. 

Uncle  William,  for  his  part,  rarely  came  to  see  them. 
He  had  come  to  town  for  his  brother's  funeral,  and  would 
have  taken  Willie  back  with  him,  and  made  him  succeed  to 
the  business,  had  he  been  allowed.  But  Mrs.  Clare's  recep- 
tion of  the  proposal  had  too  plainly  shown  him  that  it  was  a 
mistake  to  have  proffered  it.  Uncle  William  went  away 
sooner  than  he  had  intended,  and  thenceforth  the  family 
heard  but  little  of  him.  He  was  a  childless  widower,  and 
was  not  sui^posed  to  be  more  than  just  "  comfortable."  Mrs. 
Clare  spoke  of  his  calling  with  disdain.  The  children  had 
inferred  early,  from  their  mother's  manner,  that  it  was  a 
very  second-rate  profession ;  and  though  they  had  nothing 
against  their  Uncle  William,  who  was,  if  possible,  quieter 
and  more  taciturn  than  their  father,  and  who  seemed  kindly 
disposed  towards  them,  they  saw  him  depart  to  his  country 
store  without  regret. 

"Well,  that's  done,"  said  Willie,  in  tones  of  triumph,  as 
he  hammered  the  last  nail  in  with  a  vigorous  hand;  "I 
wonder  when  and  where  we  shall  open  the  case  again  ? " 

"  It's  almost  a  pity  we  didn't  have  a  photograph  taken  of 
the  Chevalier,"  said  Eila ;  "for  if  anything  happens  to  him 
on  the  way,  all  our  journey  would  be  for  nothing." 

"  Do  you  call  it  nothing  to  see  Europe  ? "  said  Mamy  re- 
proachfully. 


THE  WARDENS.  97 

"  We  can't  see  much  without  money,"  said  her  sister,  in 
despondent  tones.  "  None  of  you  seem  to  consider  that  we 
shall  have  barely  enough  to  live  upon  at  home." 

"If  England  is  anything  like  what  I  remember  it,"  said 
Mrs.  Clare  hopefully,  "  a  penny  there  would  go  as  far  as  a 
shilling  out  here.  Dear  me !  when  I  remember  the  quan- 
tities of  things  one  could  get  for  a  shilling  !  There  seemed 
to  be  no  end  to  them.  And  railway  tri*velling,  too.  How 
cheap  it  was ! " 

"  I  wonder  anyone  lives  here  at  all,"  said  Mamy ;  "and 
such  rich  people,  too." 

"  They  would  rather  reign  in  hell  than  serve  in  heaven, 
I  suppose,"  said  Dick.  "I  say,  I  think  I  see  a  carriage  com- 
ing up  the  hill.  If  it's  any  of  your  fine  visitors,  Eila,  I'll 
clear  out;"  and  he  whistled  to  a  large  retriever  that  lay 
tapping  its  tail  in  idle  content  on  the  veranda  boards,  and 
walked  away. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   WARDENS. 

The  carriage  to  which  Dick  had  called  his  sister's  atten- 
tion, and  which  might  be  descried  toiling  up  the  hill,  was 
recognised  as  that  of  the  Wardens.  It  had  the  effect  of 
scattering  the  family  in  all  directions. 

Mamy  ran  away,  and  took  refuge  in  the  cottage  ol  an 
old  pensioner  of  the  family  called  Mrs.  Hunter.  She  had 
two  motives  for  hiding — one  that  there  were  holes  in  the 
elbow  of  her  blouse ;  the  other  that  Sidney  Warden,  who 
had  taken  it  into  his  head  to  ask  her  to  marry  him,  might 
repeat  his  offer,  and  worldly-minded  Eila  would  be  vexed 
with  her  if  she  said  "  No  "  a  second  time. 

Eila  meanwhile  ran  hither  and  thither,  putting  things 
into  place,  and  carrying  on  her  own  toilette  operations  in 
an  ambulant  fashion  at  the  same  time.  She  had  already 
seen  that  Mrs.  Warden  was  accompanied  by  her  son  and 
daughter.      The  former   had   developed   into  the  thickset, 


98  NOT   COUNTING   THE   COST. 

sturdy-looking  youth  foreshadowed  in  the  boy.  There  was 
a  suggestion  of  latent  resistance  in  his  whole  personality — 
even  to  his  hair,  which  was  hopelessly  straight  and  harsh. 
It  stuck  out  like  a  brush,  and  refused  to  lie  smooth.  The 
Clares  had  long  ago  decided  that  Sydney  was  exactly  like 
his  hair,  tliough  they  were  fond  of  him  in  their  own  way. 
As  for  Eila,  the  thought  that  this  heir  of  thousands  of  acres 
was  perverse  littlfe  Mamy's  wooer  set  a  halo  round  his 
stubbly  locks  they  had  never  worn  before.  She  ran  down 
the  veranda  steps  to  welcome  the  trio  as  they  arrived,  and 
usher  them  to  seats  on  the  veranda.  In  Lucy,  who  was  two 
or  three  years  older  than  herself,  she  had  a  friend  who  be- 
longed to  the  girlish  period  of  her  life.  While  she  herself 
had  been  tossed  about  in  the  worst  of  life's  storms,  Lucy 
had  remained  moored  in  the  quiet  home  haven.  She  was  a 
refined  edition  of  her  brother  in  her  outward  appearance 
and  demeanour,  taller  and  better  formed  than  he.  Her 
mouse-coloured  hair,  guiltless  of  a  fringe,  was  turned 
smoothly  back  from  her  delicate  temples,  surmounted  by 
a  gray  straw  hat  wreathed  with  crimson  roses.  The  rustle 
of  her  skirt,  over  which  some  soft  gray  material,  warmed  by 
a  skilful  intermingling  of  Oriental  stripes,  hung  in  such 
folds  as  only  a  Paris  dressmaker  might  be  supposed  capable 
of  arranging,  sounded  imposingly  as  she  walked  along. 
Though  not  five-and-twenty,  she  had  none  of  the  irresistible 
attractiveness  of  youth.  One  could  almost  imagine  that  she 
had  looked  as  a  child,  and  that  she  might  yet  look  as  an  old 
woman,  much  as  she  did  now ;  that  she  must  keep  through 
life  the  same  unyouthfulness  of  complexion,  the  same 
neatly-turned  nose  and  mouth,  the  same  clear  gray  eyes  and 
pencilled  brows  (these  brows  were  Lucy's  one  beauty),  the 
same  unchanging  serenity  of  expression.  Loyal  and  lionest 
that  expression  denoted  her  to  be.  There  are  faces  which, 
for  all  their  sweetness  and  softness,  do  not  inspire  us  with 
absolute  confidence.  We  have  the  feeling  that  perhaps  if 
their  owners  were  subjected  to  the  test  proposed  by  the 
whimsical  old  gentleman  to  the  lady  who  refused  a  delicacy 
handed  to  her  in  public,  "  But  if  you  were  alone  with  it, 
madam  'i  "  we  should  not  be  entirely  reassured  as  to  the  re- 


THE  WARDENS. 


UD 


suit.  No  such  misgiving  occurred  to  those  who  studied 
Lucy  Warden's  face.  Her  sti-aiglitforwaixl  eyes,  that  were 
not  witliout  a  hint  of  hardness  in  their  direct  glance,  might 
have  merited  the  epithet  "true  as  steel."  Eila  admii'cd 
Lucy ;  but  she  was  conscious,  though  she  could  not  always 
have  told  why,  of  not  being  entirely  at  ease  in  her  presence. 
There  was  something  in  the  expression  of  Lucy's  eyes  that 
rendered  her  vaguely  uncomfortable  at  times.  She  had  a 
secret  notion  that  if  her  conduct  should  fall  short  of  Lucy's 
standard,  the  latter  would  not  make  sufficient  allowances 
for  her.  Reginald  would  do  so,  and  he  was  quite  as  honourable 
in  his  way  as  Lucy.  But  that  is  the  difference  between  being 
judged  by  a  man  and  a  woman,  thought  Eila — the  one  takes 
account  of  the  person  and  the  circumstances  as  well  as  the 
action ;  the  other  just  approves  or  condemns  the  action  by 
itself.  "  I  am  glad  that  women  don't  sit  on  the  bench,  after 
all,"  she  added  mentally,  "  though,  of  course,  I  ujjhold  their 
being  doctors  and  lawyers  upon  principle." 

The  ostensible  reason  of  Mrs.  Warden's  visit  was  to  find 
out  from  her  dear  young  friends  whether  there  was  any 
truth  in  the  report  that  they  were  going  home.  The  real 
reason  was  that,  at  a  dinner  at  Government  House  the  pre- 
ceding evening,  she  had  heard  a  Sydney  judge  and  his  wife 
speak  with  enthusiasm  of  the  picturesque  aspect  of  the  Cowa 
veranda,  and  refer  to  young  Mrs.  Frost  as  a  really  charm- 
ing person.  This  reminded  her  that  she  had  owed  a  call  to 
the  mother  of  the  charming  person  ever  since  the  preceding 
autumn.  She  had  no  compunction  about  taking  Sydney 
with  her.  From  the  time  that  he  had  been  a  small  and 
sulky-looking  school-boy,  he  had  been  given  the  liberty  of 
the  Cowa  demesne,  where  he  felt  himself,  indeed,  far  moi"e 
at  home  than  in  the  fashionable  atmosi)here  in  which  he 
had  been  nurtured.  His  mother  took  it  for  granted  that  he 
was  the  friend  of  the  Clare  boys  rather  than  the  girls.  Even 
when  he  had  reached  his  twentieth  year,  no  suspicion  of  the 
real  cause  of  his  affection  for  Cowa  crossed  her  mind. 

After  all,  the  otherwise  most  dangerous  attraction  to  be 
found  there  was  married  and  harmless,  and  the  rest  of  the 
inmates  were  all  children  together.     Even  had  Mrs.  Warden 


100  NOT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

suspected  her  son  of  expending  his  calf-love  upon  young 
Mrs.  Frost,  the  thought  would  not  have  been  displeasing  to 
her.  She  was  what  is  called  a  moral  woman,  and  a  strict 
church-goer ;  but  she  had  a  naive  belief  that  the  only  end 
for  which  other  people  existed  was  to  be  useful  to  her  and 
hers.  It  might  be  as  well  that  Sydney  should  have  a  safety- 
valve  of  some  kind  pending  the  time  when  it  would  be  in- 
cumbent upon  his  mother  to  find  some  nice,  rich,  well-con- 
nected, pious,  and  otherwise  eligible  young  woman  for  his 
wife.  In  the  meantime,  it  was  only  natural  that  he  should 
like  to  keep  up  his  intimacy  with  friends  of  his  own  age 
with  whom  he  had  been  on  rough-and-tumble  terms  almost 
as  long  as  he  could  remember. 

"  It  is  really  true,  then,  that  you  are  going  home  ? "  asked 
Mrs.  Warden,  after  she  had  disposed  herself  ceremoniously 
on  the  chair  in  the  veranda  that  Truca  had  dragged  from 
one  of  the  bedrooms  when  the  carriage  was  seen  approach- 
ing. "  So  nice,  to  be  sure  !  I  quite  long  to  be  going,  too.  I 
suppose  we  shall  have  to  make  up  our  minds  to  it  one  of 
these  days.  It  is  quite  the  thing  to  take  one's  girls  home  to 
be  presented  now.  But  Lucy  doesn't  seem  to  care  about  it 
— do  you,  Lucy  ?  " 

"  I  ?  not  at  all ! "  said  the  young  lady  addressed,  in  a 
quiet,  decided  tone  that  matched  with  her  expression. 

She  had  been  fixing  Eila  with  her  steadfast  eyes,  not 
with  any  air  of  vulgar  curiosity,  but  with  a  kind  of  scruti- 
nizing, interested  gaze  that  seemed  to  have  some  definite 
object  in  view.  Eila  was  glad  when  this  intent  glance  was 
diverted  from  her. 

"  Mamy  and  I  are  not  likely  to  have  the  chance  of  refus- 
ing to  go  to  Court,"  she  said,  laughing — she  was  not,  how- 
ever, entirely  at  her  ease,  for  Lucy's  look  and  Mrs.  Warden's 
four  guinea  bonnet  combined  had  a  somewhat  paralyzing 
effect — "for  that  is  the  last  thing  that  is  likely  to  befall  us." 

"  Oh,  but  you  will  be  in  time  for  the  London  season ! " 
said  Mrs.  Warden,  with  half-implied  reproach  in  her  tones. 
"  I  was  reading  the  list  of  the  presentations  in  the  Lady  of 
last  year,  and  there  was  a  special  mention  of  the  Australian 
contingent  of  belles." 


THE  WARDENS.  101 

Eila  smiled  again,  a  little  sadly  this  time. 
"We  shan't  be  able  to  afford  much  gaiety,  I  think,"  she 
said.  "We  are  going  in  a  sailing  vessel,  too;  so  it  may  be 
any  time  before  we  arrive.  And,  really,  the  great  reason 
of  our  going  is  to  get  proper  lessons  for  Mamy  and  Dick. 
Mother  thinks  Mamy's  voice  is  worth  cultivating,  and  Dick 
wants  to  carry  on  his  art  studies  in  Europe  in  earnest." 

"  His  art  studies ! "  echoed  Mrs.  Warden,  with  feigned 
interest ;  "you  don't  say  so  !  We  have  friends  who  went  to 
Paris  last  year  to  take  lessons  in  painting,  too.  Fancy  going 
to  Paris  for  nothing  but  that!  The  Miss  Flyte-Smythes. 
Lucy  had  a  letter  from  the  eldest  the  other  day.  It  seems 
they  copy  from  living  models  undressed — undraped,  I  think 
they  call  it.  It  sounds  quite  shocking,  you  know.  Still,  it 
seems  to  be  the  thing  at  home,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Flyte- 
Smythe  are  most  particular  people — very  higlily  connected^ 
too,  in  London,  I  am  told ;  so  I  suppose  there  is  nothing  to 
say." 

"  Have  they  exhibited,  do  you  know  ?  "  said  Eila,  feeling 
something  was  expected  of  her. 

The  ethics  of  art  was  a  subject  that  she  did  not  see  her 
way  to  discussing  with  Mrs.  Warden  and  her  son  and 
daughter,  though  it  was  just  the  kind  that  the  family  de- 
bating society  would  have  loved  to  handle. 

"  I  believe  they  have,  and  they  work  as  hard  as  though 
they  had  to  make  their  living  by  it ;  that  is  the  most  extraor- 
dinary part  of  it." 

Mrs.  Warden  sighed,  as  though  in  regret  at  the  aberra- 
tion of  her  friends,  and  Sydney  broke  in  with  a  husky-voiced 
inquiry  respecting  the  whereabouts  of  the  others. 

"  I'm  not  sure  that  my  mother  and  Dick  are  at  liome," 
said  Eila — she  had  reasons  for  believing  that  they  had  shut 
themselves  up  in  one  of  the  back-rooms  ;  "  but  Mamy  should 
be  somewhere  about ;  she  ran  over  to  old  Mrs.  Hunter's  a 
few  minutes  ago." 

Sydney  involuntarily  turned  his  head  in  the  direction  of 
the  cottage,  and  Lucy  said  in  her  staid  voice  : 

"  Old  Mrs.  Hunter  is  your  sister's  protegee,  isn't  she  ? 
Doesn't  she  go  and  read  to  her  sometimes  ?  " 


102  NOT   COUNTING   THE  COST. 

"Not  often,"  said  Eila.  A  transient  gleam  of  niirtli, 
promptly  repressed,  flashed  from  her  soft  dark  eyes.  "  I  am 
afraid  she  thinks  it  is  better  fun  to  hear  her  talk.  We  did 
try  the  plan  of  reading  her  a  story  once,  but  she  was  so  dis- 
gusted when  she  heard  it  was  all  a  make-up  we  never  tried 
it  again.  She  said  if  that  was  all  people  got  their  letters  for 
they'd  better  leave  it  alone.  There  were  lies  enough  in  the 
world  without  looking  for  'em  in  a  book." 

Lucy  laughed. 

"  She  is  quite  a  character,  isn't  she  ?  What  will  she  do 
when  you  are  all  gone  away,  I  wonder  ?  By-the-by,  what 
vessel  are  you  going  in  ? " 

"  The  Queen  of  the  South ;  "  and  Eila  nodded  with  an 
air  of  proprietorship  towards  the  barque  lying  a  little  way 
down  the  wharf  in  the  far  distance,  with  bare  masts  reflected 
in  the  glassy  harbour. 

"  The  Queen  of  the  South ! "  echoed  Lucy  in  dismayed 
tones ;  "  that  will  be  making  a  long  journey  of  it.  I  suppose 
it  will  take  twice  as  long  as  going  by  the  mail  ? " 

"Three  times,  I  dare  say,"  said  Eila  complacently;  "but 
what  does  that  matter  when  one  has  plenty  of  time  to  lose  ? 
You  see,  the  passage  does  not  cost  half  so  much  as  by  the 
mail,  and  then  we  shall  be  well  found  all  the  time,  as  the 
first  mate  was  careful  to  remind  us  when  we  were  looking 
over  the  vessel  the  other  day." 

Lucy  said  nothing;  she  was  a  little  puzzled  by  Ella's 
manner,  and  rather  inclined  to  wonder  at  the  ambition  that 
could  prompt  her  friends  to  desire  to  see  the  world  when  it 
could  only  be  accomplished  under  such  uncomfortable  con- 
ditions as  these.  Sydney  was  fidgeting  about,  obviously 
anxious  to  be  on  the  move.  His  secret  gratitude  to  Eila 
was  unbounded  when  she  said  suddenly : 

"  I  wish  you  would  call  Mamy  from  old  Mrs.  Hunter's, 
if  you  don't  mind  the  trouble,  Sydney.  She  would  be  sorry 
to  miss  seeing  Lucy  and  wishing  her  good-bye." 

Sydney  started  up  with  alacrity,  knocking  down  a  flower- 
stand  in  his  haste.  Before  he  had  picked  it  up  Lucy  was  on 
her  feet  as  well. 

"  I  want  to  go  too,"  she  said.     "  I  have  been  neglecting 


THE  WARDENS,  103 

old  Mrs.  Hunter  dreadfully  lately.  Come  along,  Eila,  and 
leave  mamma  to  admire  the  view  by  herself." 

Eila  protested,  but  Mrs.  Warden  added  her  persuasions 
to  her  daughter's.  There  was  nothing  in  the  world  she 
would  prefer,  she  declared,  to  a  quiet  rest  in  this  most 
charming  spot,  while  the  young  people  went  upon  their 
errand  of  charity.  She  even  pretended  to  drive  Eila  play- 
fully away  with  her  thickly-embroidered  gold  and  mauve 
pai'asol.  After  this  there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  yield, 
and  the  trio  set  off,  Eila  wallcing  hatless  between  tlie 
brother  and  sister  on  their  way  to  the  old  woman's  cottage. 

Mrs.  Hunter's  abode  was  situated  in  a  spot  that  a  mon- 
arch, or,  rather,  an  artist,  might  have  coveted  for  his  in- 
habiting. Across  the  rugged  descending  slopes  and  the 
intervening  clusters  of  buildings  the  winding  waters  of  the 
Derwent  lay  broad  and  sparkling  like  a  sapphire  shield 
under  the  afternoon  sun.  Seen  from  this  height,  the  river 
looked  like  a  broad-bosomed  lake,  set  round  with  royal 
mountains.  To  the  right  lay  the  gentle  slopes  of  Mount 
Nelson,  whose  long  descending  sides  were  broken  in  places 
by  some  high-perched  homestead,  some  patch  of  green 
civilization  in  the  midst  of  the  darker  vegetation  around. 
To  the  left  Mount  Direction  reared  its  craggy  steeps  sky- 
ward, and  billowy  hills,  clothed  with  sombre  scrub,  rolled 
away  to  the  horizon;  while  almost  behind  the  cottage, 
though  plainly  visible  from  it,  the  frowning  mass  of 
mighty  Mount  Wellington  loomed  dark  and  distinct 
against  the  shining  sky.  With  a  sanatorium  of  Nature's 
own  making  to  live  in,  and  the  liberal  dole  that  she  re- 
ceived from  x^ublic  and  private  sources  to  subsist  upon,  old 
Mrs.  Hunter's  latter  end  was  better  than  her  first.  Eila 
hurried  on,  ostensibly  to  prepare  her  for  the  visit,  though 
in  reality  to  see  that  Mamy  did  not  attempt  to  make  her 
escape  by  the  back-door.  The  dwelling  consisted  of  a  sin- 
gle room,  which  was  scrupulously  clean.  Mrs.  Hunter,  it 
was  well  known,  was  what  another  euphonious  colonial 
term  calls  an  "  old  hand,"  and  she  maintained  the  orderly 
habits  she  had  acquired  at  the  expense  of  the  State.  The 
narrow  bed  in  the  corner  was  covered  by  a  clean  patch- 


104  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

work  quilt.  There  was  even  an  attempt  at  decoration  in 
the  arrangement  of  some  large  shells  that  flanked  the  tin 
basin  and  bit  of  cracked  looking-glass  on  the  shelf.  There 
were  woodcuts  from  old  j)eriodicals  pinned  against  the  wall. 
As  Eila  approached  the  cottage,  she  heard  the  cracked  voice 
of  the  old  woman  recounting  in  tremulous  tones  the  ex- 
ploits and  shortcomings  of  her  fowls. 

"  An'  Mrs.  Morris,  if  you'll  believe  me,  dear,  'as  been  an' 
bet  'er  own  heggs ;  an'  if  your  ma  '11  buy  'er  hoff  me,  she 
shall  'ave  'er  cheap ;  an' Oh,  mercy,  Lard,  me  back  ! " 

The  sudden  ejaculation  and  the  contortion  that  accom- 
panied it  were  caused  by  the  unexpected  appearance  of 
Eila's  black  merino  skirt  at  the  open  door. 

"  It's  only  me,"  said  the  owner  of  the  skirt,  laughing  and 
holding  out  her  firm  smooth  hand,  which  the  old  woman 
seized  in  her  skinny  brown  claw  and  mumbled  at  effusive- 
ly, "  so  don't  throw  away  your  effect,  Mrs.  Hunter ;  keep  it 
for  Miss  Warden,  who  will  be  here  in  another  minute." 

"  The  Wardens  are  not  coming  here !  "  exclaimed  Mamy 
in  dismay.  "Give  me  the  back-door  key,  Mrs.  Hunter, 
quick ! " 

"  No,  don't,  Mrs.  Hunter ;  she's  not  to  have  it !  "  cried  her 
sister,  seizing  her  by  the  waist,  while  Mamy  struggled  to 
escape. 

Finding  her  efforts  in  vain,  she  broke  from  her  captor 
with  a  sudden  quick  movement,  and  with  the  words,  "  Then 
they  shall  see  me  as  I  am,  and  I  don't  care,"  flung  forward 
to  the  encounter  of  the  enemy. 

"  As  I  am  "  did  not  signify  that  Mamy  was  in  the  habit 
of  resorting  to  artifices  when  called  upon  to  appear  before 
visitors.  It  meant  simply  that  she  had  on  a  pair  of  kangaroo 
leather  boots  past  redemption,  that  her  blouse  was  fruit- 
stained,  and  her  hair  what  girls  call  anyhow.  In  this  attire 
she  ran  defiantly  down  the  hill  towards  Lucy  Warden  and 
her  brother,  who  were  following  upon  Eila's  footsteps.  To 
walk  down  a  declivity  of  any  kind  would  never  have  entered 
the  head  of  any  member  of  the  Clare  family,  who  were  ac- 
customed to  run  "full  tilt"  down  the  rubbly  descending 
path,  steep  and  uneven  as  the  bed  of  a  mountain  torrent, 


THE   WARDENS.  105 

that  led  to  the  road  below,  with  feet  that  seemed  to  fly,  as 
though  they  had  been  winged  like  Mercury's. 

A  certain  eagerness  was  apparent  in  Sydney's  manner  as 
this  tumbled  apiiarition  came  rushing  forward,  but  Mamy 
included  him  in  a  general  "  How  d'ye  do  ? "  addressed  to  his 
sister  and  himself,  and  avoided  looking  at  him  as  she  turned 
back  to  walk  towards  Mrs.  Hunter's  cottage  between  the 
two. 

"  We  needn't  hurry,"  she  said.  "  Mi's.  Hunter  wants  you 
to  sm'prise  her  in  her  best  cap,  Miss  Warden." 

"  How  is  the  poor  old  lady  to-day  ? "  asked  Lucy ;  then, 
with  an  air  of  gentle  patronage,  "  You  were  sitting  with  her, 
dear,  were  you  not  ?     It  is  very  good  of  you." 

It  was  observable  that  she  called  Mamy  "dear,"  whereas 
the  latter  addressed  her  friend  by  the  ceremonious  title  of 
''  Miss  Warden."  Seven  or  eight  years  of  difference  in  age, 
and  such  a  difference  in  worldly  advantages  as  may  be 
measured  by  the  influence  of  an  income  of  a  few  hundreds 
and  an  income  of  several  thousands  on  their  daily  lives, 
seemed  to  have  created  an  impalpable  ban*ier  between  them. 
Lucy,  it  is  true,  would  have  destroyed  it,  had  she  been 
allowed.  She  never  saw  Mamy — though  she  saw  her  but 
rarely — without  saying,  "  I  wish  you  would  call  me  plain 
Lucy";  but  the  younger  girl  had  never  felt  prompted  to 
follow  her  bidding.  The  Wardens  lived  much  in  Melbourne, 
as  well  as  at  their  country  estate — a  real  manorial  demesne, 
no  mere  bush  home — in  Tasmania ;  and  when  they  occu- 
pied their  house  in  Hobart,  they  did  so  after  the  fashion  of 
rich  people  with  liveried  servants  to  do  their  bidding,  and 
horses  and  carriages  that  drove  them  pompously  through 
the  quiet  Hobart  streets.  Sydney  Warden  had  been  an  inter- 
mittent visitor  at  Cowa  for  years  past.  The  Clares,  with  the 
exception  of  Eila,  dissociated  him  in  their  minds  from  his 
own  people,  and  had  come  to  look  upon  him  almost  as  one 
of  themselves  from  the  first  afternoon  several  years  ago, 
when  Willie  had  brought  him  to  Cowa  on  a  Saturday  half- 
holiday.  JManiy  had  been  a  turbulent  little  girl  in  those 
days,  and  Sydney's  early  and  unromantic  recollection  of  her 
was  in  the  act  of  hurling  a  raw  potato  at  him  in  defence  of 


IQQ  NOT   COUNTINO   THE  COST. 

her  brother  Dick,  who  was  getting  the  worst  of  it  in  a  struggle 
with  him.  How  he  continued  to  come  every  holiday  until 
after  a  lapse  of  nearly  eighteen  months,  which  he  had  spent 
in  Victoria,  he  returned  to  find  his  little  potato-thrower 
grown  into  a  bewitching  young  girl,  need  not  be  told  here. 
He  was  certain  now  that  he  must  have  been  in  love  with 
Mamy  from  the  beginning,  and  that  he  had  been  only  wait- 
ing until  she  could  understand  liim  to  tell  her  so.  His  feel- 
ing had  been  so  strong  tliat  he  never  dreamed  it  could  be 
unshared  ;  and  the  blow  that  had  been  inflicted  when  Mamy 
declared  that  she  could  not  and  would  not  marry  him  had 
been  such  that  even  now  he  was  inclined  to  doubt  the  reality 
of  her  words.  He  had  eagerly  accepted  his  sister's  proposal . 
to  call  at  Cowa  the  day  after  his  repulse,  about  which  he 
had  said  nothing  to  his  family,  as,  indeed,  he  had  said  noth- 
ing regarding  the  nature  of  his  sentiment  for  Mamy.  Per- 
haps he  had  a  secret  misgiving  as  to  the  manner  in  which 
his  aixnouncement  would  be  received.  Perhaps  he  felt  it 
would  be  wise  to  make  sure  of  Mamy's  consent  in  the  first 
instance.  Moreover,  it  is  such  an  accepted  thing  among 
colonial  youths,  be  they  rich  as  Croesus  or  poor  as  Diogenes, 
that  they  have  only  their  own  inclination  to  consult  in  the 
choice  of  a  wife,  that  to  invite  a  preliminary  discussion  on 
the  subject  in  the  family  circle  would  have  seemed  to  Sydney 
a  superfluous,  not  to  say  an  indelicate,  proceeding. 

He  could  not  refrain,  however,  from  casting  an  appealing 
glance  at  the  object  of  his  passion,  as  he  entered  the  cottage 
by  her  side  in  Lucy's  wake.  But  Mamy  resolutely  ignored 
it.  Her  attention  was  taken  uj}  by  watching  the  comedy  of 
Mrs.  Hunter's  reception  of  her  grand  visitors.  The  old 
woman's  expression  as  she  received  the  tract  and  the  half- 
pound  of  tea  that  Lucy  silently  deposited  on  the  table  by  her 
side  was  a  thing  to  be  treasured  up.  The  feigned  depreca- 
tion and  the  covert  mockery  betrayed  in  the  twinkle  of  the 
monkey-like  eyes  formed  a  combination  as  comic  as  it  was 
diabolic. 

Lucy,  for  her  part,  would  never  have  dreamed  of  inter- 
preting an  expression  in  this  light.  When  she  was  in 
Hobart  she  did  not  fail  to  take  her  due  share  of  parish  work, 


THE  WARDENS.  107 

and  to  fulfil  the  same  zealously  and  conscientiously.  To 
analyze  the  particular  point  of  view  whence  her  recipients 
regarded  her  bounty  did  not  come  within  her  province. 
Old  Mrs.  Hunter  had  no  more  individuality  for  Lucy  than 
any  other  old  woman  in  the  parish  to  whom  it  was  fitting  to 
present  tracts  and  tea.  She  was  naively  and  sincerely  con- 
vinced that  she  was  the  best  judge  of  what  was  suited  to  the 
spiritual  as  well  as  to  the  corporeal  needs  of  those  she  bene- 
fited. She  applied  it  accordingly,  a  little  austerely,  perhaps, 
as  she  was  wont  to  perform  all  her  other  duties  in  that  state 
of  life  into  which,  as  she  would  have  said  herself,  it  had 
pleased  God  to  call  her. 

When  the  tea  and  the  tract  had  been  bobbingly  acknowl- 
edged, Lucy  proceeded  to  make  inquiries  after  old  Mrs. 
Hunter's  health.  Though  the  words  were  kind  and  the 
glance  that  accompanied  them  well-meaning  and  benevo- 
lent, there  was  an  unconscious  stiffening  in  Miss  Warden's 
entire  person  as  she  entered  into  conversation  with  the  old 
reprobate  that  seemed  to  give  quite  a  different  signification 
to  her  utterance  from  that  of  any  member  of  the  Clare  fam- 
ily. The  difference  was  subtle  ;  it  was  of  a  kind  to  be  felt 
rather  than  described.  Yet  it  seemed  to  invest  the  visit  with 
a  formality  it  had  not  worn  before,  and  made  Eila  feel 
vaguely  uncomfortable  on  old  Mrs.  Hunter's  behalf.  She 
tried  to  create  a  diversion  by  drawing  out  the  latter  upon 
the  ever-fertile  subject  of  the  delinquencies  of  her  fowls,  and 
even  Lucy  was  obliged  to  laugh  when  she  heard  of  the  dam- 
age wrought  by  Master  'Enery's  beak  upon  Miss  Hemily's 
tail.  The  party  stood  awkwardly  silent  for  a  moment,  until 
Eila  said  in  cordial  society  accents  : 

"  Now  we  will  leave  Mrs.  Hunter  to  discipline  her  fowls, 
and  go  back  to  tea  at  Cowa.  I'm  afraid  your  mamma  has 
had  no  one  but  Truca  to  entertain  her  all  this  time." 

"  I'm  sure  Truca's  quite  equal  to  the  task,"  said  Lucy, 
with  conventional  politeness ;  "  but  if  you  must  go  now,  I 
think  I  will  stop  behind  a  little  if  you  don't  mind.  You 
see,  it  is  a  long  time  since  I  last  read  to  Mrs.  Hunter,  and 
she  can't  complain  that  what  I  read  to  her  isn't  true,  at 
any  rate." 


108  NOT   COUNTING  THE  COST. 

Perhaps  there  was  the  faintest  hint  of  an  implied  rehuke 
in  Lucy's  tones  as  she  said  these  words,  glancing-  down 
meanwhile  at  a  little  volume  she  had  drawn  from  her  pocket 
while  speaking.  Eila  perceived  that  it  was  a  daintily-bound 
Testament,  with  a  gilt  cross  stamped  on  the  black  cover. 
She  knew  that  Lucy  had  strong  High  Church  sympathies, 
and  looked  doubtfully  across  at  old  Mrs.  Hunter,  who  was 
standing  with  an  air  of  exaggerated  and  devoutly  expectant 
humility  that  boded  no  good  result  from  the  reading  to 
which  Lucy  was  about  to  subject  her. 

"I  wish  you  would  come,  all  the  same,  Lucy,"  urged 
Eila  weakly;  "you  might  go  back  to  Mrs.  Hunter  after- 
wards, you  know." 

"Afterwards!"  echoed  Lucy.  "Why,  it's  late  already; 
there  wouldn't  be  time,  indeed."  The  small  sacrifice  of  the 
tea,  which  she  felt  to  be  a  sacrifice  nevertheless,  was  an  ad- 
ditional inducement  to  remain.  The  others  prepared  to  go, 
and  Lucy  followed  them,  to  say  demurely  at  the  door,  "  You 
will  tell  mamma  I  will  join  her  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill, 
please,"  when  another  shadow  darkened  the  entrance,  and 
her  voice  suddenly  faltered  and  stopped. 

I  think  she  had  divined  whose  figure  this  shadow  repre- 
sented even  before  she  lifted  her  eyes  towards  it.  The  figure 
was  tall,  square,  and  manly ;  the  eyes  were  blue,  and  also 
liad  a  manly,  trust-inspiring  exj)ression,  though  just  now 
there  was  a  hint  of  something  anxious  and  expectant  in 
them,  too.  That  Lucy  Warden  had  divined  that  this  unex- 
pected presence  was  that  of  Reginal  Acton  would  not  have 
been  doubted  by  any  one  who  had  laiown  the  secret  of 
Lucy's  heart.  Did  she  not,  indeed,  carry  the  influence  of 
this  very  presence  in  her  waking  thoughts  and  her  nightly 
dreams,  when  she  would  fain  have  been  fixing  them  upon 
things  above  ?  and  of  what  other  earthly  presence  could  the 
same  have  been  said  ?  It  is  true  that  she  had  never  ex- 
changed long  conversations  with  Reginald  at  any  time ;  and 
yet  she  believed,  and  perhaps  she  was  not  very  far  out  in  her 
belief,  that  she  knew  him  as  he  really  was.  It  is  a  fact  that 
when  people  are  entirely  themselves — tliat  is  to  say,  when 
they  are  simple  and  natural  in  all  the  relations  of  life,  a 


THE  WARDENS.  109 

thing  which  is  falsely  supposed  to  be  only  possible  when 
there  is  nothing  to  hide — we  may  be  supposed  to  know 
them,  as  far  as  one  human  being  can  know  another  from 
the  first  moment  of  their  meeting.  Lucy  thought  that 
Reginald  liked  talking  to  her.  His  eyes  were  so  kind  and 
his  manner  so  cordial  and  interested  ;  and  Heaven,  or  Lucy 
herself,  only  knew  how  much  she  liked  talking  to  him ! 
Maidenly  reticence  seemed  to  Lucy  at  this  time  one  of  the 
saddest  attributes  that  it  is  incumbent  upon  self-respecting 
young  women  to  possess.  For  all  she  knew  to  the  contrary, 
Reginald  was  heart-free.  There  was  no  reason  against  his 
making  her  his  wife  if  he  had  known  what  a  lifelong,  heart- 
felt, body-and-soul  devotion  she  was  prepared  to  bestow 
upon  him.  But  how  was  he  to  divine  her  sentiment,  and, 
failing  his  divination  of  it,  who  was  to  inform  him  of  it  ? 
Reginald  was  poor.  Lucy  was  looked  upon  as  an  heiress. 
She  was  well  aware  that  there  were  men  who  would  marry 
her  for  her  money  to-morrow,  but  Reginald  was  not  of  this 
kind.  Her  fortune,  that  constituted  such  a  powerful  attrac- 
tion in  the  eyes  of  others,  was,  as  she  believed,  an  obstacle 
in  his.  It  would  preclude,  perhaps,  the  very  first  idea  of 
paying  his  addresses  to  her  from  his  mind.  And  thei-e  was 
no  one  whom  she  could  take  into  her  confidence.  Her 
mother  least  of  all,  for  Lucy  well  knew  that  it  was  Mrs. 
Warden's  ambition  that  she  should  marry  "an  English 
title."  The  rest  mattered  little.  Only  the  title  was  a  si7ie 
qud  non.  There  had  been  times  when  Lucy  had  entertained 
wild  ideas  of  sending  Reginald  an  anonymous  letter — ideas 
that  were  discarded  as  soon  as  they  arose  with  a  blush  of 
burning  shame,  for  her  sense  told  her  that  the  real  author  of 
such  an  epistle  would  be  instantly  divined.  It  seemed  so 
hard  that  the  thing  which  was  called  "  filthy  lucre  "  should 
create  a  barrier  between  herself  and  him.  When  she  saw 
him  unexpectedly,  as  to-day,  not  having  met  him  for  what 
seemed  like  a  very  long  time,  a  nervous  tremor  passed  over 
her  usually  impassive  face.  She  was  too  taken  up  with  her 
own  emotions  to  notice  that  Eila  was  almost  as  agitated  as 
herself.  To  tell  the  truth,  the  scene  of  the  preceding  evening 
was  still  very  vivid  in  young  Mrs.  Frost's  memory.    If  Lucy 


110  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

had  known  !  Nay,  if  any  one  had  known  !  If  those  present 
could  have  imagined  that  not  twenty-four  hours  ago  Regi- 
nald's arms  had  held  her  encircled  in  their  passionate  em- 
brace !  What  would  they  have  said  ?  What  would  they 
have  thought  ?     How  would  they  have  looked  at  her  then  ? 

It  was  Reginald,  however,  who  set  all  the  company  at 
ease  now,  Eila  could  not  but  admire  his  serenely  usual 
manner.  One  swift  glance  of  intense  feeling,  of  brother-like, 
lover-like  solicitude  and  reassurance,  directed  for  one  instant 
at  her  troubled  countenance,  and  then  he  was  addressing  the 
party  collectively  in  the  pleasant,  deliberate  male  voice  that 
matched  so  well  with  his  face. 

"  What  is  the  palaver  about,  Mrs.  Hunter  ? "  he  asked, 
turning  to  the  old  woman  with  his  hand  extended,  after  he 
had  shaken  liands  with  the  rest.  "  Were  you  telling  Miss 
Warden  that  Mrs.  Morris  had  the  pip  ?  " 

"  The  Lard  forbid,  sir ! "  ejaculated  Mrs.  Hunter  piously, 
"  though  she  ain't  long  for  this  world,  anyhow !  I  was  tellin' 
the  company  'ere  assembled  as  'ow  she'd  been  an'  het  'er  own 
hegg,  and  into  the  pot  she  goes  if  I  don't  find  a  charitable 
lady  as  '11  buy  'er  hoff  me  'fore  the  end  o'  the  week." 

She  looked  with  a  meaning  blink  of  the  monkey  orbs 
towards  Lucy,  but  Lucy's  lips  were  severely  closed,  and  Eila 
said  laughingly : 

"  Mrs.  Hunter  won't  keep  any  fowls  whose  morals  are  at 
all  questionable — will  you,  Mrs.  Hunter  ? " 

"  Ah,  them  fowls  knows  when  they're  breakin'  the  laws, 
same  as  if  they  was  Christians,"  declared  the  old  woman, 
bustling  about  to  find  seats  for  the  party. 

Old  Mrs.  Hunter  possessed  the  savoir  vivre  that  belongs 
to  a  wicked  past.  Some  people  might  have  appeared  at  a 
disadvantage  under  the  contingency  of  providing  seats  for 
five  visitore  whei'e,  strictly  speaking,  there  was  only  accom- 
modation for  two.  Not  so  this  ancient  inmate  of  Hobart 
Gaol.  She  waved  Reginald  to  a  seat  on  the  edge  of  her 
patchwork-covered  bed  in  the  corner,  and  Sydney  to  another 
on  a  reversed  wash-tub,  while  she  offered  the  two  wooden 
chairs  to  the  yoixng  ladies  as  though  she  had  been  a  Du 
Maurier  duchess  receiving  her  latest  lions  at  an  afternoon 


THE  WARDENS.  HI 

Crush.  Mamy  was  already  sitting  upon  the  table,  and  was 
therefore  provided  for.  There  was  a  little  friendly  talk,  dur- 
ing which  Lucy's  Testament  was  somewhat  slipped  back  into 
her  pocket,  seeing  which  Eila  said  persuasively  : 

"  Do  let  me  induce  you  to  come  back  with  us,  Lucy,  for 
we  really  must  go  now.  Truca  will  be  in  despair  if  we  let 
the  tea  get  cold.  She  has  had  all  the  responsibility  of  getting 
it  ready  for  us." 

"  I  don't  deserve  any  tea,"  said  Miss  "Warden  hesitatingly ; 
in  her  heart  she  felt  that  the  temptation  to  return  now  Regi- 
nald was  of  the  party  was  too  powerful  to  be  resisted.  "  I 
said  I  wouldn't  have  any  a  minute  ago." 

"  Never  mind ;  you  can  retract.  I  won't  behave  like  Mrs. 
Fry,"  said  Eila,  laughing. 

"  What  did  Mrs.  Fry  do  ? "  asked  Reginald,  looking  at  her 
with  eyes  whence  he  essayed  to  withhold  the  love-light  that 
illumined  them. 

"  What  she  did  ? "  Eila  spoke  hurriedly ;  it  was  evident 
that  she  was  nervous.  "  Oh,  it  is  just  a  silly  little  story  I 
read  in  a  goody-goody  book  once.  Mrs.  Fry  asked  a  little 
girl  to  have  a  piece  of  cake,  and  the  little  girl  refused.  I 
suppose  she  was  shy,  poor  little  thing.  But  next  time  she 
was  asked  she  had  grown  braver,  so  she  said,  '  Yes,  please.' 
'Nay,  then,  thee  shalt  not  have  it  now,'  Mrs.  Fi-y  said,  'for 
thou  hast  told  a  lie  in  the  first  instance.'  Wasn't  she  a  hor- 
rid old  thing  ? " 

"  I  should  have  told  her  she  was  telling  a  lie  too,"  said 
Reginald  quietly,  "  if  she  had  offered  me  the  cake  without 
meaning  me  to  have  it." 

Lucy  listened  to  this  conversation  with  a  grave  expres- 
sion of  countenance.  If  it  had  been  anyone  but  Reginald, 
she  was  not  sure  that  she  would  have  approved  of  the  com- 
ment made  on  the  story  of  Mrs.  Fry.  And  now  the  party 
trooped  to  the  wide-open  door  with  repeated  good-byes  to 
Mrs.  Hunter. 

Innumerable  were  the  wrinkles  in  the  old  woman's  mum- 
mified face  as  she  responded  to  their  farewell  greeting,  with 
an  occasional  well-contrived  contortion  of  her  whole  body 
as  a  reminder  of  the  existence  of  her  rheumatics.    More 


112  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

monkey-like  than  ever  the  closing  of  her  dried-up  and  shriv- 
elled brown  fingers  upon  the  sej)arate  shillings  that  Regi- 
nald and  Sydney  dropped  into  her  parchment  palm  at  part- 
ing. 

"  Ah,  me  dears ! "  she  cried,  in  forlorn,  worn-out  trem- 
bling tones,  loud  enough,  however,  for  them  to  hear  her  as 
they  went  trooping  away,  "  I  wish  ye  all  long  life  and  'appi- 
ness,  an'  rich  'usbands  an'  wives ;  and  ye  won't  'ave  far  to 
look  for  'em  neither,  I'm  thinkin' ;  you  mark  an  old  woman's 
words." 

It  was  a  short  downward  walk  or  run  to  Cowa,  but  short 
as  it  was,  Sydney  contrived  to  make  Mamy  loiter  behind 
with  him  for  a  short  space.  The  absence  of  all  beard  and 
moustache  might  have  further  accentuated  his  unmistak- 
ably boyish  aspect,  had  it  not  been  for  a  certain  air  of  dogged 
resolve  which  gave  premature  maturity  to  his  face.  A 
person  seeing  the  torso  only  would  have  concluded  that  it 
belonged  to  a  tall  man.  The  shortness,  however,  of  Syd- 
ney's legs  laid  him  open  to  the  uncomplimentary  charge  of 
stumpiness. 

He  had  the  same  honest  eyes  as  Lucy's,  but  just  now 
they  wore  a  somewhat  bewildered  air.  Mamy  walked,  not 
too  willingly,  by  his  side.  With  her  bare  head,  over  which 
the  tumbled  shiny  hair  lay  guiltless  of  parting,  like  a  boy's, 
and  her  collarless,  fruit-stained  blouse,  she  was  in  anything 
but  courting  trim.  The  incongruity  of  her  attire  discon- 
certed her.  It  is  a  well-known  fact  that  our  moods  are 
largely  influenced  by  the  clothes  we  wear.  Mamy  felt  that 
it  would  have  been  easier  to  repulse  Sydney  with  dignity  had 
she  been  dressed  in  a  silk  gown,  with  a  train  like  Lucy's. 

"  Did  you  tell  your  sister  about  what  I  asked  you  yester- 
day ?  "  inquired  Sydney  at  last,  in  dejected  tones. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mamy  shortly. 

"  And  what  did  she  say  ?  " 

"  Said  I  was  a  fool,"  was  the  prompt  reply. 

"  Did  she  ?  Oh,  Mamy,  does  that  mean  you  might  come 
round  after  all  ? "  he  cried,  for  the  admission  seemed  to 
imply  that  Mamy  had  possibly  reconsidered  her  decision. 
"  You  know  1  wouldn't  mind  waiting  any  time," 


THE   WARDENS.  113 

"What's  the  use  of  waiting?"  put  in  Mamy  disconso- 
lately.    "  I^know  quite  well  I  shall  never  change." 

"  But  how  can  you  tell  ? "  he  urged.  "  You  don't  hate 
me  so  much,  do  you,  Mamy  ?  "  ' 

"  Hate  you  ?  Don't  be  so  silly  ?  You  know  quite  well  I 
like  you  tremendously." 

"  Then,  if  that's  so,  why  couldn't  you  like  me  just  a  little 
more  ? "  Sydney's  ordinary  unmodulated,  matter-of-fact 
voice  was  trembling  now  with  eagerness.  "  I'm  not  asking 
you  to  be  in  love  with  me  if  you  can't  feel  like  it.  Only  let 
me  be  your  husband,  and  I'll  take  my  chance  of  the  rest." 

"  Let  you  be  my  husband  ?  "  repeated  Mamy  slowly,  with 
a  curious  look  iii  her  childish  eyes.  "  Do  you  know,  Syd- 
ney, I  really  think  I'm  older  than  you  in  some  ways,  after 
all.  Can't  you  understand  that  it  is  just  because  I  like  you, 
and  don't  love  you,  that  it  would  be  impossible — altogether 
impossible — to  marry  you  !  Why,  I  could  not  do  you  such 
a  wrong." 

"  How  could  it  be  a  wrong,"  urged  Sydney  moodily, 
"  when  I'm  willing  to  take  the  chance  ?  I  told  you  yester- 
day I  was  ready  to  run  the  risk,  and  I'll  stick  to  what  I  said. 
Look  here,  Mamy,  don't  bother  your  head  about  liking  me  a 
lot  or  liking  me  a  little.  Just  give  me  what  you  can,  and 
let  me  make  the  best  of  it.  I  can't  settle  to  anything  as  long 
as  you  keep  trying  to  choke  me  off  as  you  do.  People 
might  think  I  was  young  to  know  my  own  mind,  but  I'm 
over  twenty-one — going  on  for  twenty-two — and  I've  made 
up  my  mind  longer  than  you  think  ;  I've  always  had 
you  in  my  thoughts  one  way  and  another.  You  were  a 
little  kid,  Mamy,  the  first  time  I  saw  you.  You  remember 
that  day  you  shied  the  potato  at  my  head,  only  I  dodged  it. 
Well,  I've  always  felt  the  same  about  you  ever  since  that 
day.  I've  always  admired  you,  I  can't  say  how  much. 
You've  got  no  nonsense  about  you  like  other  girls.  Besides 
— I  don't  know  what's  the  reason — I  only  Icnow  I  can't  care 
for  other  girls.     I  can't  care  for  anybody  but  you." 

"  Well,  what  can  I  do  ?  "  cried  Mamy  desperately ;  "  it 
isn't  my  fault ! " 

"  I  don't  say  it  is,"  replied  Sydney  humbly ;  "  but  you 


114  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

might  have  a  little  pity  for  a  fellow,  anyhow.  I  can  never 
feel  any  other  way ;  I'm  sure  of  that.  Look  here ;  I  came 
up  to-day  on  purpose  to  ask  you  something,  Mamy,  if  I  got 
the  chance.  I'm  not  going  to  worry  you,  I  promise  you.  I 
don't  want  you  to  bind  yourself.  Besides,  I  know  you 
wouldn't,  so  it  would  be  no  use  asking  you ;  but  if  I  choose 
to  be  bound  myself,  you  can't  stop  me — can  you  ?  Now,  I'm 
going  to  bind  myself  to  you  for  five  years,  whatever  hap- 
pens. I'm  going  to  swear  it  to  you,  so  help  me,  God !  and 
may  I  be  burned  up  in  hell  if  I  don't  keep  my  word ! " 

"  Stop,  you  wicked  boy  ! "  cried  Mamy,  round-eyed  with 
horror,  and  putting  a  finger  into  each  ear.  "  I  won't  listen 
to  another  word." 

"  Burned  up  in  hell ! "  repeated  Sydney  with  gusto,  pull- 
ing her  hands  witli  gentle  force  from  her  head ;  they  had 
been  upon  brotherly  and  sisterly  terms  almost  as  long  as  she 
could  remember.  "  I  bind  myself  for  five  years,  and  I  shall 
wait  to  see  if  you  won't  give  me  a  hearing  at  the  end  of 
them.  I  shall  consider  myself  engaged  just  the  same  as  if 
you  had  said  '  Yes,'  you  know." 

"  And  what  if  I  were  to  go  and  get  married  ?  "  said 
Mamy  defiantly. 

"  Well,  it  would  be  oflF  then.  But  you  won't  ? "  he 
pleaded.  "  You  might  say  you  would  be  bound  for  a  year, 
at  least." 

"  What !  for  a  year  only  ?  With  pleasure,"  replied 
Mamy,  in  mock  society  accents. 

"  Well,  give  me  your  hand  upon  it  here  behind  the  hay- 
stack," he  cried  eagerly,  as  they  passed  through  the  paddock 
towards  the  side-entrance  to  the  homestead.  "No,  give  me 
a  kiss  upon  it,  Mamy  ;  you  never  kiss  me  now,  darling." 

"  What's  the  use  ?  " 

She  extended  her  cheek  to  him  ;  but,  breaking  away  the 
second  after,  she  ran  at  all  her  speed  away  from  him  to  the 
house.  She  was  full  of  elation  at  the  satisfactory  hiatus  in 
her  courtship.  The  compromise  proposed  by  Sydney  was 
all  to  her  advantage.  Eila  would  not  scold  or  lecture  her 
any  more  now  ;  for  Sydney  was  still  to  be  had  for  the  ask- 
ing, and  she  herself  was  free  as  the  air  of  heaven.    Then 


LUCY  MAKES  A  CONFESSION.  115 

five  years,  as  evei^ybody  knows,  are  an  immense  lapse  of 
time.  What  might  not  happen  in  five  years  ?  There  was 
space  for  all  the  family  to  die,  or  for  Sydney  to  change  a 
hundred  times  over.  Her  face  wore  a  triumphant  expression 
as  she  joined  the  rest  of  the  party  on  the  veranda.  Eila 
tried  to  keep  the  anxious  query  from  her  eyes  that  was 
present  in  her  mind  as  the  pair  approached.  But  Sydney 
did  not  wear  the  aspect  of  a  crest-fallen  lover,  though  there 
was  a  look  of  wicked  triumph  in  Mamy's  face  that  boded  no 
good  from  her  sister's  point  of  view. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

LUCY  MAKES  A  CONFESSION. 

The  conversation  had  turned  upon  the  all-absorbing 
theme  of  the  approaching  journey.  Reginald,  leaning 
against  the  veranda  balustrade,  was  talking  to  Mrs.  Warden, 
allowing  his  glance  to  wander,  nevertheless,  towards  the 
two  girls  (Eila  appeared  more  like  a  girl  than  Lucy),  who 
sat  in  close  proximity  under  the  decorative  tendrils  of  pas- 
sion-vine and  convolvulus.  Lucy's  demure  face  wore  an 
expression  of  sedate  bliss  in  presence  of  the  man  to  whom 
her  heart  had  gone  out  unasked.  Eila  was  secretly  enjoying 
the  curious  sense  of  conscious  power  and  elation  that  Regi- 
nald's avowal  had  conferred  upon  her.  Mrs.  Warden  had 
been  so  far  struck  by  it  as  to  observe  how  well  she  was  look- 
ing. It  was  an  ordinary  formality  with  strangers  to  remark 
of  young  Mrs.  Frost  every  time  they  saw  her  that  she  was 
looking  well.  Perhaps  their  real  impressions  would  have 
been  more  truly  rendered  by  the  use  of  the  word  "hand- 
some "  ;  but  handsomeness,  as  we  all  know,  is  largely  de- 
pendent upon  health,  and  in  Eila  the  two  seemed  to  be 
inseparably  bound  up  together.  At  the  time  of  her  great 
grief,  when  she  had  returned  heart-stricken  to  her  child- 
hood's home,  her  rich  bloom  of  colouring  had  abandoned 
her  for  a  while,  and  no  one  would  have  divined  how  hand- 


116  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

some  she  could  look  upon  occasion.  It  is  not  the  mere 
colour  of  the  skin  that  is  dependent  upon  health  for  its 
charm;  the  sparkle  of  the  eye,  the  lustre  of  the  hair,  the 
polished  whiteness  of  the  teeth  (as  every  quack  advertise- 
ment tells  us)  rest  upon  it  as  wel-1.  And  besides  the  j^osses- 
sion  of  redundant  health,  Eila  was  going  at  this  time  tln-ough 
an  experience  that  seemed  to  stimulate  all  the  secret  fibres 
of  her  being.  Reginald's  vow  of  undying,  unselfish  love 
and  devotion  lay  warm  and  ever-present  at  her  heart.  There 
need  be  no  alloy  of  self-reproach  or  consideration  of  wrong 
done  to  another  in  her  secret.  She  was  robbing  no  other 
woman  of  a  love  that  should  have  been  hers,  and  in  the 
gratitude  and  affection  she  felt  for  Reginald  there  was  no 
consciousness  of  treason.  There  are  women  who  can  detect 
when  one  of  their  sex  is  under  the  influence  of  a  sentiment 
of  this  kind,  by  a  certain  indescribable  radiance  in  her 
manner,  as  of  one  who  has  found  an  unexpected  treasure. 
Lucy  wondered  at  Eila's  transfigured  aspect  for  the  second 
time  to-day.  She  was  one  of  those  who  held  the  theory  that 
all  the  Clare  family  were  peculiar,  and  certainly  it  was 
strange  that  anyone  placed  in  the  circumstances  in  which 
young  Mrs.  Frost  found  herself  should  continue  to  wear  so 
debonnaire  and  joyous  an  air. 

Lucy,  meanwhile,  was  nursing  a  daring  project  in  her 
mind  on  Reginald's  behalf— a  project  that  she  would  have 
shrunk  from  with  dismay  had  anyone  else  proposed  it  to 
her,  but  that  she  had  begun  to  regard  as  actually  feasible  by 
dint  of  harbouring  it  in  her  secret  imagination.  Fancies 
that  we  cherish  in  this  way  are  apt  to  gain,  in  the  long  run, 
an  insidious  influence  over  our  better  judgments.  Familiar- 
ity breeds  contempt  in  behalf  of  ideas  as  well  as  of  situations, 
and  many  of  the  crimes  known  judicially  as  crimes  of  pre- 
meditation are  the  outcome,  we  may  be  sure,  of  ideas  that 
the  perpetrators  have  shrunk  from,  in  the  first  instance,  as 
from  a  kind  of  ghastly  joke.  To  Lucy  it  would  have  ap- 
peared at  one  time  a  matter  of  the  most  monstrous  improb- 
ability that  she  should  ever  deliberately  take  the  first  step 
towards  establishing  closer  and  warmer  relations  with  a 
man  who  had  not  even  avowed  his  preference  for  her.    But 


LUCY  MAKES  A  CONFESSION.  117 

the  thin  end  of  the  wedge  had  been  suffered  to  insert  itself 
when  the  idea  had  first  entered  her  mind. 

"  Oh,  if  only  what  we  were  told  as  children  could  be  true, 
and  there  were  really  and  truly  a  little  bird  that  flew  about 
telling  secrets,  and  that  could  whisper  into  Mr.  Acton's  ear 
that  I  would  joyfully  accept  him  for  a  husband !  It  is  so 
dreadful  to  think  that  our  two  lives  might  be  ruined  for 
want  of  a  word  in  season.  Perhaps  he  only  keeps  out  of  my 
way  now  for  the  reason  that  I  am  sux^posed  to  be  an  heiress, 
and  that  he  is  so  poor  and  so  proud  himself." 

Between  allowing  our  imaginations  to  run  upon  the  im- 
palpable little  bird  of  our  childish  days,  and  contriving  to 
materialize  such  a  bird  when  its  services  are  needed,  there 
is  but  a  short  step.  Lucy  set  herself  to  consider  whether 
there  was  no  one  among  her  friends  who  might  be  trusted 
to  play  the  part  of  the  little  bird  confidentially  and  dis- 
creetly ;  and  when  she  had  reached  this  point,  not  without  a 
pitiful  sense  of  helplessness  and  shame — for  the  natural  in- 
stinct that  would  prompt  women  to  select  their  own  mates 
is  one  they  are  taught  to  shrink  from  with  horror  under  our 
actual  social  system — it  was  but  natural  that  Eila's  name 
should  suggest  itself  as  that  of  the  bird  or  the  friend  in 
need.  Was  not  the  friendship  that  existed  between  Mr. 
Acton  and  young  Mrs.  Frost  the  common  talk  of  Hobart  ? 
"Was  it  not  a  friendship  oi^en  as  the  day,  and  strong  in  its 
own  blanielessness  ?  Who  could  be  better  fitted  to  give 
Reginald  disinterested  and  sisterly  advice,  svich  as  the  little 
bird  would  have  given  had  its  services  been  available,  than 
Eila  ?  No  stronger  proof  of  the  utter  guilelessness  of  Lucy's 
nature  could  be  afforded  than  her  entire  faith  in  Eila's  will- 
ingness to  play  the  part  she  designed  for  her.  That  friend- 
ship for  such  a  woman  as  young  Mrs.  Frost  might  render  it 
difficult  for  a  man  to  bestow  his  love  in  another  quarter,  or, 
in  other  words,  that  a  man  who  was  Eila's  accredited  friend 
might  not  be  available  as  another  woman's  lover,  was  a  con- 
tingency that  it  never  entered  Lucy's  mind  to  contemplate. 
For  her  there  was  no  tampering  with  the  sixth,  seventh,  or 
eighth  commandments,  an  infringement  of  any  of  which 
three  seemed  to  her  to  bear  equal  proportions  of  dreadful- 


118  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

ness.  She  would  not  even  have  suspected  Reginald  of 
breaking  the  second  clause  of  the  last  commandment  of  all, 
and  never  doubted  that  Eila's  heart,  like  that  of  any  self- 
respecting  wife  under  a  similar  affliction,  was  dutifully  im- 
prisoned in  the  asylum  where  her  lunatic  husband  hurled 
Scriptui'al  blasphemies  at  all  who  came  within  his  reach. 
Before  the  Clares  should  take  their  departure,  Lucy  intended 
to  bring  her  courage  to  the  point  of  delicately  sounding 
Eila  on  the  subject  of  Reginald's  persistent  state  of  bache- 
lorhood, and  perhaps  of  making  her  understand,  at  the  same 
time,  the  main  points  of  the  communication  that  the  afore- 
said little  bird  would  have  whispered  into  the  ear  of  Regi- 
nald himself. 

The  latter,  meanwhile,  was  far  from  divining  the  plans 
that  were  being  laid  for  his  regeneration.  He  had  been 
thinking  with  profound  sadness  of  the  coming  separation, 
while  Eila  pointed  out  with  triumph  to  Lucy  the  position  of 
the  Queen  of  the  South,  lying  against  the  wharf  in  the 
glassy  harbour,  with  her  bare  masts  tapering  skywards, 
stately  and  slender  in  the  luminous  atmosphere.  Reginald 
did  not  follow  Eila's  explanations  in  the  matter.  His  back 
was  turned  towards  the  vessel.  He  hated  the  Queen,  and 
everything  connected  with  her.  I  doubt,  indeed,  whether 
the  spectacle  of  the  Flying  Dutchman  entering  the  bay 
with  phantom  sails  set,  and  a  skeleton  helmsniian  directing 
her  course,  could  have  struck  a  greater  chill  to  his  heart. 

"Sydney  went  over  your  ship  the  other  day,"  remarked 
Lucy  blandly ;  "  he  said  she  smelt  of  apples  and  wool.  But 
you  are  lucky  to  be  going  to  England  all  the  same,  and  I 
suppose  you  are  very  glad.  But  don't  you  dread  the  '  good- 
byes'  ?    I  should,  I  know,  in  your  place." 

Lucy  was  complacently  sipping  her  tea  as  she  made  the 
foregoing  remark,  and  the  transient,  mocking  smile,  plainly 
observable  to  Reginald,  that  accompanied  Eila's  reply  was 
all  unnoticed  by  her. 

"  There  are  not  many  '  good-byes '  we  need  shed  tears 
over,"  she  said  grimly.  "  I  don't  suppose  the  Hobart  people 
will  break  their  hearts  about  our  going  away." 

"  You   naughty   thing ! "    cried   Lucy   with   playful    re- 


LUCY  MAKES  A  CONFESSION.  119 

proach  ;  "  and  you  have  so  many  friends,  too."  She  cast  a 
meaning  glance  at  Reginald,  whose  blue  eyes  were  looking 
unusually  solemn.  "  I  never  go  anywhere  without  hearing 
it  said,  '  The  Clares  are  such  a  clever  family.  What  a  loss 
to'the  community  they  will  be ! '  " 

Eila  smiled,  but  her  eyes  remained  ostensibly  uncon- 
vinced. 

"  What  a  talent  Lucy  has  for  putting  things  pleasantly ! " 
she  observed.  "  It  is  so  much  nicer  to  be  called  clever  than 
peculiar,  though  that  is  what  she  really  hears  us  called,  if 
she  would  admit  it." 

"  No,  indeed ! "  Lucy  protested  eagerly ;  "  at  least,  only 
when  it  is  coupled  with  cleverness,  for  surely  it  is  a  way  of 
being  peculiar  to  be  clever.  Stupid  people  are  never  called 
peculiar,  are  they  ?  " 

How  far  the  quality  of  peculiai'ity  might  be  said  to 
couple  distinction  upon  its  jjossessors  was  a  question  which, 
however,  was  apparently  destined  to  i*emain  unsolved  upon 
the  present  occasion ;  for  Truca  created  an  unexpected  di- 
version by  an  appeal  to  Reginald  to  accompany  her  to  the 
cow-paddock,  enforced  by  passing  two  small  hands  within 
his  ai*m,  and  pulling  him  forward  in  the  direction  she 
wanted. 

"  I  believe  my  cow  knows  we're  going  to  leave  her,"  she 
said  mournfully ;  "  she  looks  at  me  with  such  a  sad  expres- 
sion sometimes,  like  that.  I've  told  her  you're  going  to  be 
her  master  when  we're  gone ;  but  you've  got  to  be  properly 
introduced  to  her,  you  know,  so  do  come,  please." 

Reginald  having  been  led  away,  Mrs.  Warden  rose  to 
take  her  departure,  but  Lucy  interposed  : 

"  If  you  can't  stay  any  longer,  mamma,  will  you  send 
the  carriage  back  for  me  ?  I  want  to  have  Eila  all  to  my- 
self for  a  little ;  perhaps  it's  the  last  time  of  our  being  to- 
gether. Sydney  " — turning  to  her  brother — "  you  can  go 
back  with  mamma  if  you  choose." 

"  I  don't  choose,  thank  you,"  said  Sydney  shortly. 

He  accompanied  his  mother,  however,  down  the  hill; 
but  though  the  carriage  was  seen  driving  away  a  moment 
later  in  the  sole  occupation  of  the  four-guinea  bonnet  and 


120  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

the  mauve  and  gold  parasol,  he  did  not  return.  Mamy  had 
also  disappeared,  whence  Eila  augured  that  things  were 
going  as  was  fitting. 

Meanwhile,  she  and  Lucy  were  left  to  the  enjoyment  of 
each  other's  undisturbed  society  on  the  veranda. 

"There  is  such  a  lot  I  want  to  say  to  you,"  began  Lucy, 
settling  herself  back  in  the  low  wicker-chair  in  which  she 
was  seated.  Eila  looked  properly  sympathetic  ;  but  instead 
of  proceeding  further,  Lucy  paused,  cast  down  her  eyes,  and 
appeared  absorbed  in  the  occuijation  of  stirring  round  the 
remnants  of  her  tea  in  the  bottom  of  her  cup.  When  she 
broke  the  silence  at  last,  the  startliaig  confidence  she  im- 
parted was  as  follows :  "  What  nice  tea  you  do  have  at 
Cowa !    I  always  say  no  tea  tastes  like  yours  anywhere ! " 

"  Do  you  mean  that  really,  Lucy  ? "  There  was  genuine 
gratification  in  Eila's  tone — the  complimentary  comments 
on  the  family  cleverness  had  not  been  nearly  as  grateful  to 
her  as  the  praise  of  their  tea — showing  that  it  was  possible, 
after  all,  to  have  things  "  nice  "  in  what  she  considered  their 
hopeless  household.  "  One  is  afraid  to  offer  you  people  tea 
or  anything  else ;  it  is  all  such  grand  luxe  in  your  own 
home." 

"  Our  own  home  !  Why,  we  live,  as  our  cook  says,  '  as 
plain  as  plain.'  It  is  very  simple  fare,  I  assure  you.  You 
should  hear  Sydney  talk  about  the  dinners  you  give  him  at 
CoAva,  and  the  apple-dumplings  running  over  with  cream. 
He  always  says,  '  Why  don't  we  have  things  like  they  do 
at  Mrs.  Clare's  ? '  " 

"  Does  he  ?  What  an  absurd  boy ! "  laughed  Eila.  She 
did  not  think  it  necessary  to  avow  her  belief  that  Love  was 
the  sauce  that  seasoned  the  Cowa  dinner  of  herbs  to  Syd- 
ney's palate.  "  I  can't  compliment  him  upon  his  discrimi- 
nation, I  grieve  to  say ;  but,  of  course,  it's  nice  to  think  such 
an  illusion  is  possible  in  any  case." 

"  How  do  you  know  it's  an  illusion  ? "  asked  Lucy  grave- 
ly, "  I  am  sure  I  Avould  change  our  way  of  life  for 
yours." 

"  I  am  sure  you  wouldn't  if  you'd  tried  it ! "  declared  Eila 
shortly. 


LUCY  MAKES  A  CONFESSION.  121 

Lucy  seemed  to  ponder  again  over  something  she  would 
have  said,  but  decided  upon  second  thoughts  to  leave  unsaid. 
She  was  thoughtfully  balancing  her  spoon  upon  the  edge  of 
her  cup,  and,  after  a  pause,  Eila's  speech  reverted  to  the  sub- 
ject that  was  always  uppei^most  in  her  mind. 

"  Do  you  know,  Lucy,  when  I  look  at  the  Queen  of  ihe 
South  down  there"— she  glanced  at  the  far-away  vessel 
towering  in  stripped  majesty  above  the  smaller  craft 
around — "  and  think  of  all  the  time  we  shall  have  to  spend 
on  board  her,  I  wonder  sometimes  what  we  shall  find  to  do 
with  ourselves  all  day.  I  can't  realize  somehow  that  we 
are  going  to  be  nailed  to  that  one  little  spot  in  all  the  wide 
ocean  for  weeks  and  months,  with  no  earthly  chance  of  get- 
ting away." 

"  No  waterly  chance,  you  mean,"  said  Lucy,  who  occa- 
sionally hazarded  a  mild  joke  of  which  this  must  be  re- 
garded as  a  fair  specimen.  "  Yes,  it  must  seem  strange.  But 
I  hope  you  don't  mean  what  you  said  a  little  while  ago,  Eila, 
about  people  not  missing  you  in  Hobart.  There  are  our- 
selves, to  begin  with.  The  place  won't  seem  the  same  to  us 
when  you  are  gone — you  know  that.  Why,  Sydney  almost 
lives  here ! " 

"  Oh,  your  brother  will  be  a  little  sorry,  I  dare  say,"  as- 
sented Eila,  and  there  was  moi^e  in  her  speech  than  met  her 
friend's  ear. 

"  Look  at  the  family  ties  you  have,  too,"  urged  Lucy 
gently — "  that  kind  old  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frost,  to  begin  with." 
She  uttered  the  names  timidly,  with  a  halting  accent.  Young 
Mrs.  Frost's  brow  darkened  visibly.  A  half-imperceptible 
shrug  of  the  shoulders,  that  might  have  signified  denial,  or 
doubt,  or  indifference,  or  something  that  partook  of  all  three, 
testified  alone  that  she  had  heard  the  observation.  "And 
there  is  Mx\  Acton,"  continued  Lucy  warily;  "you  are  not 
going  to  pretend  he  won't  be  soi'ry,  are  you  ? " 

"  No,  I'm  not  going  to  pretend  it,"  said  Eila,  with  a  laugh 
that  had  something  forced  in  its  ring ;  "  why  should  I  ?  " 

"Only  that  you're  so  fond  of  pretending  you  have  no 
friends  in  Hobart.  I  could  think  of  heaps  of  people  besides. 
I  suppose  " — Lucy's  unyouthful  complexion   became  cm'i- 


122  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

ously  suffused — "you  have  known  Mr.  Acton  for  a  long 
time,  have  you  not  ?  " 

"  Pretty  long,  almost  ever  since  he's  been  here — nearly 
two  years,"  Eila  made  reply,  raising  her  soft  dark  eyes 
gravely  towards  the  face  of  her  interlocutress.     "  Why  ?  " 

Lucy  answered  neither  the  question  nor  the  look.  She 
had  become  engrossed  once  more  in  her  cup  and  her  spoon. 

"  Grive  me  some  more  tea,  dear.  You'll  believe  I  think  it 
nice  now,  I  suppose  ? "  Then,  as  Eila  busied  herself  with  the 
si)irit-lamp  and  kettle,  "  By  the  way,  I  wonder,"  she  added, 
in  an  off-hand  tone,  "  whether  there  is  any  truth  in  a  report 
I  once  heard — I  haven't  heard  it  lately,  though — about  Mr. 
Acton  being  engaged  to  some  girl  he  knew  in  England." 

Lucy  had  not  uttered  these  words  before  she  would  fain 
have  recalled  them.  She  felt  lowered  in  her  own  estimation 
by  the  artifices  to  which  she  had  recourse  to  obtain  the 
knowledge  she  coveted.  Only  as  it  is  consistent  with  human 
egoism  to  suppose  that  people  are  interested  in  what  concerns 
ourselves  rather  than  in  what  concerns  them,  it  did  not  oc- 
cur to  Eila  that  her  friend  could  have  any  private  and  par- 
ticular end  of  her  own  to  serve  in  selecting  Reginald's  love 
affairs  for  the  theme  of  her  confidential  talk.  On  the  con- 
trary, Eila's  fear  was  that  Lucy  might  be  about  to  exercise 
the  privilege  of  a  friend,  and  read  her  a  private  lecture  upon 
her  conduct  in  relation  to  Mr.  Acton.  It  was  a  suspicion 
that  a  little  time  ago  would  have  made  her  smile.  Fortified 
by  the  consciousness  of  Reginald's  loyal  friendship,  it  would 
have  been  easy  to  laugh  to  scorn  the  suspicion  of  carrying 
on  a  vulgar  flirtation  with  him.  But  to-day  her  position 
seemed  to  have  changed.  From  the  moment  that  she  had 
been  clasped  in  Reginald's  arms,  from  the  moment  that  she 
had  realized  how  frail  a  barrier  held  her  aloof  from  him,  her 
attitude  towards  the  world  as  regarded  him  had  changed. 
Yesterday  she  felt  that  she  could  return  the  inquisitorial 
stare  of  all  the  Mrs.  Grundys  in  Hobart  with  the  serene 
gaze  of  self-assured  innocence.  There  had  not  been  a  single 
exchange  of  confidences  between  Reginald  and  herself  that 
might  not  have  been  listened  to  by  Mrs.  Grundy  and  all  her 
tribe,  had  they  been  so  minded.    To-day  it  seemed  to  her 


LUCY  MAKES  A  CONFESSION.  123 

that  she  would  quail  under  Mrs.  Grundy's  stare.  She  shrank 
from  being  cross-examined  by  Lucy.  She,  a  married  woman, 
in  a  position  that  was  rendered  almost  sacred  by  the  tragedy 
that  overshadowed  her  life,  to  be  warned  by  a  girl-companion 
against  undue  flirting — to  be  told  most  likely  that  she  was, 
in  the  expressive  French  formula,  "on  people's  tongues." 
Her  pride  revolted  against  the  notion.  Yesterday  she  would 
have  been  amused  and  brave ;  to-day  a  feeling  that  resem- 
bled anger  as  well  as  apprehension  took  possession  of  her 
soul. 

And  while  these  uncomfortable  misgivings  were  engross- 
ing her  mind,  Lucy,  on  her  side,  was  far  from  feeling  at  ease. 
Why  did  young  Mrs.  Frost  take  so  long  to  answer  the  ques- 
tion put  to  her  ?  Had  she  seen  through  the  motives  that 
prompted  it  ?  and  did  she  despise  the  speaker  as  she  deserved  ? 
It  was  quite  a  relief  to  Lucy  when  Eila  said,  in  an  indifferent 
voice : 

"  Mr.  Acton  engaged  ?  I  never  heard  that  before.  Who 
told  you  so,  Lucy  ? " 

"  Who  told  me  ? "  repeated  Lucy  guiltily ;  "  I  don't  quite 
remember.  It  was  only  a  surmise,  only  a  rumour.  Perhaps 
I  am  mixing  him  up  with  somebody  else.  People  think,  you 
know,  there  must  be  some  attraction  in  England  or  some- 
where, because  of  his  not  marrying.  It  is  rather  curious, 
when  one  comes  to  think  of  it,  you  know." 

"  Curious  ?  Why  ?  "  A  little  flush  overspread  Eila's 
cheek.  She  was  quite  sure  now  tliat  there  was  a  veiled  sig- 
nificance in  Lucy's  words.  "  People  are  so  absurdly  fond  of 
judging  for  others.  I  suppose  he  has  his  own  reasons.  He 
is  not  rich,  for  one  thing :  in  fact,  he  is  what  mothers  with 
daughters  would  not  consider  a  catch  by  any  means  :  he  is 
too  poor.  He  has  a  mother  to  keep  besides,  and  she  is  half 
paralyzed." 

"  All  the  same,  there  must  be  plenty  of  girls  who  would 
be  glad  to  marry  him,  and  he  might  choose  one  with  money, 
you  know,"  said  Lucy  naively. 

"  Reginald — Mr.  Acton,  I  mean — is  not  that  kind  of  man," 
said  Eila,  warmly.     "  He  is  the  last  j)erson  in  the  world  to 
marry  for  money." 
9 


124  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

Lucy's  only  reply  was  a  profound  sigh.  There  was  a  long 
interval  of  silence,  at  the  end  of  which  she  said  bitterly : 

"Oh  dear!  how  heavily  one  is  handicapped  when  one 
has  money,  to  he  sure  !     How  I  do  hate  being  rich  !  " 

The  form  in  which  this  reflection  was  couched  did  not  in 
the  least  detract  from  its  solemnity  in  Eila's  estimation. 
Neither  of  these  young  women  spoke  slang  with  malice  pre- 
pense. When  they  employed  it,  it  was  as  unconsciously  as 
Monsieur  Jourdain  employed  prose. 

"  One  is  much  more  handicapj)ed  when  one  is  poor,"  she 
retorted.  "  You  should  try  what  poverty  is  like  before  you 
talk,  Lucy.  It  is  an  experiment  rich  people  may  indulge  in 
if  they  choose,  though  we  can't  try  the  counter-experiment 
of  being  rich  in  our  turn.     I  only  wish  we  could." 

"  Ah,  you  don't  know  the  drawbacks ! "  said  Lucy,  nod- 
ding her  head  sagely.  "  You  don't  know  what  a  nightmare 
the  fear  of  being  married  for  one's  money  becomes  in  a  girl's 
(life.  And,  really,  there  is  good  reason  for  it.  What  you 
were  saying  just  now  about  Mr.  Acton  is  an  instance.  Some- 
how, I  don't  believe  the  men  most  worth  caring  about — the 
proud,  honourable,  independent  natures,  I  mean — ever  pro- 
pose to  a  girl  with  money ;  they  would  rather  go  out  of  her 
way.  You  said  as  much  about  Mr.  Acton  yourself.  You 
said  he  was  the  kind  of  man  who  would  disdain  to  marry  a 
rich  person.  I  suppose  you  think  he  would  be  more  likely 
to  avoid  anyone  who  was  looked  upon  as  an  heiress,  don't 
you?" 

"He  might,  perhaps,"  admitted  Eila;  she  was  secretly 
immensely  relieved  at  the  turn  the  conversation  was  taking ; 
"  but  he  is  not  everybody.  Others  might  be  different.  And 
then  there  are  raen  with  proud,  honourable,  independent 
natures,  as  you  call  it,  Lucy,  who  have  the  good  luck  to  be 
rich  as  well,  and  who  can  afford  to  marry  anyone  they 
please — men  whose  fortune  lifts  them  above  any  kind  of 
suspicion,  for  whom  no  girl  need  be  too  rich  or  too  poor. 
What  do  you  say  to  that  ? " 

"  Say  it  bears  out  what  I  said,"  persisted  Lucy,  with  a 
melancholy  shake  of  the  head.  "  It  shows  that  a  girl  need 
not  have  money  to  get  the  best  kind  of  husband  in  the  end. 


LUCY   MAKES  A  CONFESSION.  125 

I  had  rather  the  rich  man  you  speak  of  afforded  himself  the 
luxury  of  having-  me  with  my  poverty  than  with  my  money. 
It  would  make  me  doubly  sure." 

"  Then  there  is  another  great  advantage  money  confers," 
continued  Eila  doctorally ;  "  it  gives  one  such  a  power  of  se- 
lection. You  can  choose  out  of  so  many.  You  might  almost 
make  sure  of  finding  the  right  one  at  last.  Just  think  what 
a  range  of  observation  you  have,  Lucy,  compared  with  other 
people ! " 

"  I  don't  really  know  that  that  is  an  advantage,"  said 
Lucy  doubtfully.  "  I  find  people  less  interesting  every  year 
— men,  I  mean.  Perhaps  I  see  through  them  too  clearly.  But 
there  is  one  question  I  want  to  ask  you.  Supposing — only 
supposing,  you  know — that  just  such  a  man  as  we  have  been 
talking  about,  one  of  the  proud,  honourable,  independent 
sort — not  at  all  rich — should  happen  to  please  a  girl  with 
money  very  much  indeed — supposing  she  felt  she  could  care 
for  him  with  all  her  heart  and  soul,  and  that  he  had  some- 
how given  her  a  little  reason  to  think  that  he  might  come 
to  care  for  her  in  the  same  way  in  time,  if  only  the  wretched 
money  were  not  there  to  put  an  obstacle  in  his  way,  don't 
you  think  she  would  hate  having  money  then,  and  want  to 
be  rid  of  it,  and  wish  that  she  could  have  known  him  with- 
out it  from  the  first  ? " 

A  light  dawned  upon  Eila's  mind.  What  if  it  were  as  a 
suppliant  rather  than  as  a  monitress  that  Lucy  had  beguiled 
her  into  speaking  of  Reginald  ?  The  supposition  was  re- 
sponsible for  raising  certain  curiously  conflictive  emotions 
in  her  breast.  The  sensation  evoked  by  Lucy's  confession — 
for  that  the  supposititious  case  the  latter  had  described  was 
none  other  than  her  own  Eila  felt  secretly  assured — was  a 
feminine,  if  an  unworthy  one,  and  it  had  a  thoroughly 
feminine  origin.  Hitherto  young  Mrs.  Frost  had  cherished 
Reginald  as  a  friend.  She  had  valued  his  friendship  as  a 
precious  element  in  her  existence,  but  from  the  moment  that 
she  suspected  Lucy  of  bestowing  her  affections  upon  him 
unasked,  his  value  as  something  more  than  a  friend  seemed 
to  increase  to  a  notable  extent.  She  told  herself  that  this 
feeling  was  mean  and  unworthy.     Had  she  cared  for  Regi- 


126  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

nald  as  unselfishly  as  she  believed  him  to  care  for  her,  the 
probability  conveyed  by  Lucy's  words  should  have  made 
her  rejoice  for  him  in  her  heart.  What  happier  fate  could 
be  desired  for  so  good  a  man  than  that  of  being  loved  and 
worshipped  by  a  wife  like  Lucy,  endowed,  as  Eila  felt  in- 
stinctively, with  a  nature  that  could  love  but  once  and  for 
ever — a  wife  who  would  be  a  crown  to  her  husband  in  more 
senses  than  one  ;  who,  in  bestowing  upon  him  her  worldly 
goods,  would  make  him  rich  in  earthly  possessions ;  who 
would  heap  his  invalid  mother  with  largesses,  and  would 
joyfully  share  with  him  the  task  of  brightening  her  declin- 
ing days  !  Yet,  with  the  contradiction  that  forms  part  of  a 
woman's  nature,  Eila  could  not  bring  herself  honestly  to 
wish  that  this  happy  consummation  might  be  realized.  She 
could  not  even  wish  Reginald  to  desire  that  a  similar  piece 
of  good  fortune  should  happen  in  her  own  case.  Mingled 
with  these  feelings  there  was  yet  another,  in  the  sense  that 
Reginald's  worship  of  her  might  be  worth  even  more  appre- 
ciation than  she  had  hitherto  bestowed  upon  it.  Were  there 
not  others  who  could  repay  it  so  much  more  richly  in  tangi- 
ble benefits  than  herself,  ready  to  set  the  highest  of  all  pos- 
sible values  upon  it  ? 

Eila  did  not  formulate  the  foregoing  thoughts  in  her 
mind.  They  floated  vaguely  through  her  brain  before  she 
replied  to  Lucy's  anxious  question.  How  completely  she 
would  have  scattered  the  illusions  of  her  simple  friend  to 
the  wind,  how  she  would  have  crushed  her  virginal  hopes 
to  the  earth,  had  she  put  into  words  the  thought  that  rose 
unbidden  in  her  mind  !  "  Poor  Lucy  !  "  was  the  thought ; 
"  as  if  you  or  anyone  else  in  the  world  could  win  Regiiiald 
from  me ! "  Eila,  it  need  not  be  said,  did  not  utter  her 
thought.  She  used  her  speech  in  the  sense  in  which  Tal- 
leyrand discovered  the  use  of  speech,  for  the  purpose,  that 
is  to  say,  of  concealing  it. 

"  As  to  wanting  to  be  rid  of  one's  money  for  the  sake  of 
marrying  a  poor  man,"  she  said  at  last,  "  I  don't  see  any 
reason  in  that,  Lucy.  I  should  congratulate  myself,  if  I 
were  in  the  place  of  the  girl  you  speak  of,  that  1  was  rich 
enough  for  both." 


LUCY  MAKES  A  CONFESSION.  127 

Lucy's  face  brightened,  but  fell  again  immediately. 

"You  don't  see  the  ditRculty,"  she  said  in  depressed  ac- 
cents. "  How  could  one  accept  a  man  unless  he  proposed  to 
one  first  ?  No  girl  could.  How  could  one  even  show  a  man 
one  liked  him,  unless  he  gave  one  the  opportunity  ?  It 
would  be  a  quite  too  impossible  thing." 

"  Opportunities  are  never  wanting,"  said  Eila  oracularly. 
"  If  a  girl  wants  to  show  a  man  that  she  j)ref ers  him  to  every- 
one else,  there  are  plenty  of  ways  of  doing  so." 

"  Tell  me  only  one  way,"  said  Lucy  eagerly. 

"  Well,  when  she  meets  him  at  balls,  for  instance,  she 
might  give  him  all  the  dances  he  asks  for,  and  say  '  no  '  to 
all  her  other  partners." 

"  But  supposing  he  doesn't  dance  ? "  interposed  Lucy 
helplessly. 

"  All  the  better ;  she  can  give  up  the  dances  altogether 
then,  and  sit  them  out  with  him." 

"  Yes ;  but  supposing  he  had  begun  to  avoid  one  for  the 
reason  I  told  you  of — the  horrid  question  (Targent,  I  mean  " 
— Lucy  had  a  French  maid,  and  was  not  averse  to  interlard- 
ing her  sentences  with  an  occasional  French  expression — 
"  just,  too,  as  one  was  beginning  to  feel  he  might  like  one." 
In  her  effort  to  maintain  the  conversation  upon  an  imper- 
sonal footing,  "  ones  "  abounded  in  Miss  Warden's  phrases. 
"  What  could  one  do  then  ? " 

"  One  could  speak  to  a  friend,  as  you  are  doing,"  said 
Eila,  laughing ;  while  Lucy  blushed  a  pained  ciimson  all 
over  her  face  and  neck. 

"  Don't  be  unkind,  Eila !"  she  said  imploringly.  "lam 
so  miserable  sometimes,  if  you  only  knew  ;  and  there  is  not 
a  soul  I  can  talk  to  about  it." 

"  It  is  he,  then  ?  "  said  Eila  interrogatively,  with  a  back- 
ward inclination  of  her  head  towards  the  cow-paddock. 

Her  lips  were  dry,  and  her  voice  sounded  hard  in  her 
own  ears. 

"  How  did  you  know  ? "  Lucy  was  holding  her  head 
down  like  a  culprit.  "  Oh,  Eila !  do  you  think  it  is  very 
dreadful  to  let  one's  self  care  about  anybody  in  that  way 
before  he  has  even  uttered  a  single  word  of  love  ?    If  it  is,  I 


128  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

can't  help  it.  It  began  more  than  two  years  ago — when  we 
were  spending  the  summer  here  before,  you  remember.  We 
saw  a  good  deal  of  Mr.  Acton  then.  I  think  he  went  out 
more  than  he  does  now,  and  he  used  to  seem  to  like  talking 
to  me  then — he  did  indeed." 

There  was  a  trembling  intensity  in  Lucy's  tones  that 
surprised  her  friend  not  a  little.  If  Eila  had  been  asked  her 
previous  opinion  of  Miss  Wai'den,  it  would  probably  have 
represented  her  as  an  embodiment  of  the  placid  type  of  a 
virgin  of  the  school  of  Perugino.  But  the  actual  Lucy  was 
more  like  a  flesh  and  blood  Juliet  than  a  painted  virgin. 
How  to  deal  with  the  delicate  problem  submitted  to  her 
judgment  was  the  difficulty  that  Eila  had  now  to  solve. 
If  she  encouraged  Lucy's  flame,  she  would  only  increase  the 
bitterness  of  the  disappointment  that  awaited  her.  If,  on 
the  other  hand,  she  appeared  desirous  of  repressing  it,  might 
not  Lucy  suspect  her  of  a  dog-in-the-mangerish  desire  to 
keep  Reginald's  undivided  allegiance  for  herself  ?  She 
paused  for  reflection  before  she  remarked  diplomatically : 

"People  would  say  you  were  throwing  yourself  away, 
you  know,  Lucy." 

"  What  should  I  care  what  people  said  ? "  cried  Lucy  pas- 
sionately. "  I  know  one  thing :  I  shall  never  care  for  any- 
one else."  Now  that  the  avowal  had  been  made,  she  seemed 
to  find  a  kind  of  relief  in  enlarging  upon  it.  "  I  always 
thought  Mr.  Acton  nice  from  the  beginning ;  but  it  was  only 
after  we  came  away  from  Hobart  last  time  that  I  began  to 
think  about  him  so  much.  When  we  were  up  on  the  station 
in  Victoria,  and  when  we  went  to  Melbourne  for  the  Cup 
week,  I  thought  of  nothing  but  when  we  should  leave  for 
Tasmania.  I  was  overjoyed  the  first  hot  wind  day  we  had, 
when  peoi^le  prophesied  that  we  were  going  to  have  such 
a  hot  summer.  I  knew  we  should  come  away  all  the  sooner, 
and  so  we  did ;  but  it  seems  we  are  to  go  to  Melbourne  again 
before  long,  and  it  has  been  a  disappointment  from  begin- 
ning to  end.  If  you  had  not  said  what  you  did  about  Mr. 
Acton's  horror  of  being  taken  for  a  fortune-hunter,  I  believe 
I  would  never  have  had  the  courage  to  speak  to  you ;  but 
that  seems  to  explain  so  much,  doesn't  it  ? " 


LUCY  MAKES  A  CONFESSION.  129 

"  Y-yes,"  assented  Eila  doubtfully,  "  I  suppose  it  does.' 

"  Do  you  think,  now  " — Lucj^  spoke  in  shamefaced  haste, 
as  though  she  dared  not  trust  herself  to  weigh  the  full  im- 
port of  her  words — "  it  would  be  possible  for  you,  who  know 
him  so  well,  to  find  out  whether  there  was  anything  at  all  in 
the  attention  he  paid  me  last  time  I  was  here  ?  I  know 
I  could  trust  you  not  to  commit  me  in  the  very  smallest  de- 
gree— couldn't  I  ?  You  may  think  it  absurd,  but  I  don't 
believe  I  could  live  " — there  was  a  pathetic  break  in  Lucy's 
voice  as  she  uttered  this  word — "  if,  without  his  caring  for 
me  himself,  Mr.  Acton  should  ever  find  out  that  I  was — that 
I  was  gone  upon  him  as  I  am."  For  the  second  time  Lucy's 
feelings  found  vent  in  an  expression  that  is  not  usually 
associated  with  deep  and  tragic  sentiment;  but  its  inade- 
quateness  passed,  as  before,  entirely  unperceived  by  her 
hearer.  "  Couldn't  you  sound  him  just  a  little  on  the  sub- 
ject, and  if  what  he  says  should  make  you  fancy  that  he 
might  have  cared  for  me  without  my  money,  why,  then  you 
could  advise  him  as  a  friend — you  are  his  friend,  I  know — 
not  to  take  the  money  question  into  account  at  all.  I  would 
rather  give  up  my  share  of  what  I  am  to  have  altogether,  if 
it  came  to  that ;  besides  which,  I  am  not  rich  now  at  all,  you 
might  tell  him ;  my  dress  allowance  is  only  two  hundred  a 
year — not  a  penny  more." 

"You  don't  call  that  rich!"  exclaimed  Eila,  purposely 
breaking  in  at  this  point ;  for  the  delicate  mi.ssion  entrusted 
to  her  became  doubly  embarrassing  in  the  face  of  her  secret 
knowledge.  "  Why,  I  shouldn't  know  how  to  spend  it  if  I 
tried." 

"  It  doesn't  go  far  when  one  has  to  go  out  so  much,"  said 
Lucy  plaintively.  "  But  to  go  back  to  what  we  were  saying. 
The  others  will  be  here  directly,  and  I  may  never  have  an- 
other chance  of  talking  to  you  alone.  Will  you  do  me  the 
favour  I  want,  Eila  ?  There  is  no  one  in  the  world  who  could 
do  it  for  me  but  you  ;  and  don't  think  meanly  of  me,  please. 
I  will  trust  you  entirely ;  and  when  you  have  found  out 
something  you  might  write  and  tell  me.  I  shall  be  eternally 
grateful  to  you,  and  I  won't  rest  until  I  hear  from  you — you 
may  be  sure  of  that." 


130  NOT   COUNTING  THE  COST. 

For  a  moment  the  idea  of  laying  the  whole  situation  bare 
before  Lucy  suggested  itself  to  young  Mrs.  Frost's  mind. 
Supposing  she  were  to  say  simjily,  "Reginald  loves  me, 
Lucy,  profoundly  and  hopelessly ;  he  knows  that  nothing 
can  come  of  it,  but  his  love  so  possesses  his  soul  that  he  has 
no  room  left  for  the  image  of  another  woman  ? "  The  very 
words  in  which  she  would  make  her  avowal  had  already 
taken  shape  in  her  brain,  when  a  glance  at  Lucy's  face 
stopped  her.  It  required  someone  with  larger  experience  of 
the  world,  someone  possessed  of  a  full  share  of  what  has 
been  well  called  the  dramatic  instinct,  which  is,  after  all, 
only  the  outcome  of  an  intensely  sympathetic  nature,  to  un- 
derstand the  nature  of  the  tie  between  Reginald  and  herself. 
Lucy  would  probably  be  pained  and  shocked  to  learn  the 
existence  of  such  a  tie  ;  but  the  first  etfect  of  the  revelation 
would  be  to  lower  Eila  in  her  eyes,  the  next  to  make  her 
bitterly  repent  of  having  confided  in  her  at  all.  How  hu- 
miliating, besides,  for  Lucy  to  feel  that  she  had  betrayed  her 
innocent  impression  that  Reginald  cared  for  her  in  his  heart 
to  the  person  who,  of  all  others,  had  the  best  reasons  for 
knowing  the  contrary  !  To  spare  her  friend  as  well  as  her- 
self, Eila  refrained  from  following  her  first  impvxlse  to  reveal 
the  real  facts,  and,  deeming  it  prudent  to  temporize,  hastened 
to  assure  Lucy  that  she  would  hold  her  confidence  sacred. 

"And  not  even  hint  it  to  your  sisters  or  your  mother," 
urged  Lucy  anxiously.  "  I  know  what  a  family  you  ai'e  for 
telling  each  other  things.  Sydney  says  it  is  like  a  debating 
society  to  hear  you  all  talk  on  the  veranda  sometimes." 

"  Oh !  only  about  vegetarianism,  or  capital  punishment, 
or  something  of  that  kind  that  matters  to  nobody,"  said 
Eila.  "Well,  Lucy  dear,  I  am  tremendously  touched  by 
what  you  have  told  me.  I  wish  I  had  it  in  me  to  feel  as  you 
do  still.  It  was  all  killed  long  ago,  I  believe.  I  mean  if  I 
were  a  girl  again,"  she  added  hurriedly,  in  answer  to  the 
shocked  astonishment  painted  on  Lucy's  face.  "  I  shall 
know  what  I  am  to  find  out  for  you,  and  I  will  write  to  you 
when  there  is  anything  to  say ;  that  is  a  settled  matter." 

"  And  you  will  be  able  to  do  it  all  without  giving  Mr. 
Acton  the  faintest  suspicion  of  the  truth  ?  " 


LUCY  MAKES  A  CONFESSION.  131 

"  Of  course  I  shall.  Nothing'  could  be  easier.  We  often 
talk  people  over.  But  let  me  say  just  one  thing :  Don't  be 
too  bitterly  disappointed  if  he  should  turn  out  to  be  a  hard- 
ened bachelor  after  all.  There  are  people  like  that,  you 
know,  and  it  is  a  mere  waste  of  sentiment  to  care  for  them  ; 
and  then  remember  about  there  being  as  good  fish  in  the  sea 
as  ever  came  out  of  it." 

"  What  of  that  ?  They  may  stop  in  the  sea  to  the  end, 
for  all  I  care  ! "  said  Lucy  recklessly. 

At  this  moment  voices  were  heard  approaching  the  ve- 
randa in  a  descending  scale.  Lucy  and  her  confidant,  who 
were  both  afraid  for  private  reasons  of  their  own  of  going 
more  deeply  into  the  subject  of  their  confidences,  started  off 
to  encounter  the  party  returning  from  the  cow-paddock. 
They  came  upon  them  in  the  flower-garden — a  mere  longi- 
tudinal strip  taken  from  the  hill  that  sloped  upwards  from 
the  house. 

Flower-garden  it  was  called  by  courtesy,  for  in  the  tangle 
of  blooms  and  weeds  that  encumbered  the  soil,  there  was 
nothing  to  recall  the  trim  parterres  we  have  learned  to  asso- 
ciate with  the  name.  Such  as  it  was,  thanks  to  the  Tasmanian 
air  and  soil,  wherein  flowers  seem  to  grow,  as  Mrs.  Stowe's 
Topsy  did,  for  no  assignable  cause,  there  was  always  to  be 
found  in  it  the  wherewithal  to  provide  a  bouquet  of  fuchsias 
and  geraniums,  bordered  by  sprigs  of  fragrant  lemon-thyme, 
for  a  friend  returning  to  town.  It  was  Dick  who  undertook 
to  hoe  the  beds  on  Sunday  morning — less,  it  is  to  be  feared, 
in  deference  to  the  flowers,  than  by  way  of  upholding  his 
right  to  garden  on  the  Sabbath.  As  no  one,  however,  showed 
any  inclination  to  call  his  right  into  question,  his  interest  in 
weeding  suiTered  a  gradual  abatement,  and  latterly  the 
g'arden  had  been  left  pretty  much  to  take  care  of  itself. 
Reginald  and  Truca  were  discovered  seated  upon  a  bench 
gravely  discoursing  upon  the  cow.  The  bench  was  under 
an  antiquated  gum-tree  that  would  long  ago  have  fallen  a 
victim  to  the  axe,  had  not  Truca  pleaded  for  its  life,  in  be- 
half of  the  amber-coloured  blobs  of  gum  yielded  by  its 
decrepit  branches.  To  a  person  seated  here  the  view  was 
even  finer  than  from  the  veranda.    In  its  rear  rose  magnifl- 


132  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

cent  Mount  Welling-ton,  bare  to  its  summit,  with  patches  of 
dusky  purple  marking  its  deeper  hollows,  its  topmost  crown 
softly  outlined  against  the  background  of  shining  blue. 
The  haitly  shrubs  and  gaily-painted  weeds  and  flowers  wove 
a  garland  of  colour  and  perfume  round  the  assembled  party, 
and  across  the  city,  lying  at  their  feet,  the  sea  glittered  and 
sparkled  beneath  the  afternoon  sun. 

We  may  be  sure  that  the  animals  are  spared  one  most 
tormenting  factor  in  human  existence — in  their  freedom 
from  the  thing  we  call  sentiment.  Provided  they  can 
browse  harmoniously  in  a  congenial  pasturage,  all  their 
wants  are  satisfied.  To  us  who  look  before  and  after,  life 
wears  a  much  more  complicated  aspect.  What  might  be 
the  precise  degree  of  sympathy  that  Reginald  felt  for  her 
was  the  problem  that  occupied  Lucy's  mind  upon  the  present 
occasion,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  enjoyment  of  the  beautiful 
scene  and  the  agreeable  society  around  her.  And  Reginald, 
in  his  turn,  was  more  exercised  by  a  similar  problem  in  be- 
half of  young  Mrs.  Frost  than  by  appreciation  of  the  sun- 
steeped  landscape  outsjjread  before  his  eyes.  The  Cowa 
estate  was  situated  upon  a  declivity,  and  might  be  easily 
clambered  over  (walking  was  not  a  term  that  could  be  fit- 
tingly applied  in  such  a  connection)  within  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  and  a  bright  descending  panorama  of  houses  and  trees 
was  visible  from  every  point.  But  for  the  reasons  I  have 
mentioned,  its  brightness  failed  to  impress  the  actual  be- 
holders of  it. 

Eila  contrived,  however,  that  Lucy  should  be  left  alone 
with  Reginald  for  a  few  moments  before  the  party  broke  up, 
but  the  experiment  did  not  tend  to  raise  Miss  Warden's 
spirits.  Mr.  Acton  did  not  afford  her  a  loophole  for  making 
even  the  most  innocent  advances.  Certainly  her  money  was 
a  more  effectual  barrier  than  she  could  have  supposed. 
Worse  still,  when  she  timidly  offered  him  a  seat  in  the  car- 
riage to  town  with  her  brother  and  herself,  he  declared  that 
he  preferred  walking. 

It  was  hardly  to  be  wondered  at  if  but  few  words  were 
exchanged  between  the  brother  and  sister  on  their  home- 
wai'd  way. 


EILA  AS  EMISSARY.  I33 

"  They  are  awfully  kind  people,  the  Clares,  if  they  are  a 
little  peculiar ! "  Lucy  had  remarked.  "  It  is  a  pity  Mamy 
is  not  a  little  more  soignee.  I  thought  her  quite  pretty  to- 
day." 

And  Sydney  had  grunted  some  inarticulate  words  in  re- 
ply. If  he  had  said  what  was  in  his  mind,  it  would  have 
been  to  the  effect  that  his  friends  at  Cowa  could  do  without 
Miss  Lucy's  patronage.  Had  the  real  nature  of  his  sister's 
meditations  been  divulged  to  him,  it  would  have  caused  him 
almost  as  great  a  surx^rise  as  a  similar  discovery  with  regard 
to  his  own  secret  thoughts  would  have  occasioned  Lucy. 

For  it  was  his  private  opinion,  when  he  thought  about 
the  matter  at  all,  that  his  sister  was  of  the  stuff  of  which  old 
maids  are  created ;  while  Lucy,  for  her  part,  looked  upon 
her  brother  as  a  good-natured  hobbledehoy,  who  would  not 
be  ripe  for  love  for  a  long  time  to  come.  Nothing  would 
have  astonished  them  more  than  to  learn  that  they  were 
undergoing  almost  a  precisely  similar  experience  as  regarded 
their  first  initiation  into  the  mysteries  of  love.  So  true  it  is 
that  those  who  live  side  by  side  may  have  no  insight  into 
the  hidden  workings  of  each  other's  natures. 


CHAPTER  VIIL 

EILA  AS  EMISSARY. 

The  interval  that  elapsed  between  the  conversation  with 
Lucy  in  the  veranda  and  the  final  departure  for  England 
passed  like  a  troubled  dream.  Eila  could  never  look  back 
to  the  last  days  of  her  sojourn  at  Cowa  without  an  impres- 
sion of  vague  bewilderment  and  unrest.  A  second-hand 
furniture-dealer  had  agreed  to  take  their  household  goods 
off  her  mother's  hands ;  but  they  made  so  poor  a  show  when 
they  were  dragged  in  their  battered  nakedness  into  the  search- 
ing light  of  day,  that  the  family  felt  almost  ashamed  of  own- 
ing them.  Mrs.  Clare's  estimate  of  the  sum  they  would  fetch 
proved  to  be  exactly  eleven  times  and  a  half  what  the  dealer 


134  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

offered.  Willie  advised  that  they  should  he  left  behind  to 
be  sold  by  auction,  but  the  money  was  needed  for  the  board- 
ship  outfit.  As  many  things  as  could  be  parted  with  were 
therefore  carted  to  town  a  few  days  before  the  departure, 
and  the  family  slept  upon  the  mattresses  and  bedding,  pre- 
pared for  their  bunks,  spread  upon  the  bare  boards.  There 
was  more  than  one  heartrending  leave-taking  to  be  gone 
tlu-ough — notably  with  the  Jersey  cow,  the  successor  of 
Snow-white  and  Strawberry,  and  with  the  brown  retriever 
dog,  the  former  being  transferred  to  Reginald,  and  the  latter 
to  Sydney.  I  think  Reginald  would  have  been  better  pleased 
to  keep  the  dog,  whose  curly  head  he  had  so  often  seen  Eila 
fondle  in  times  gone  by ;  but  the  cow  was  a  sacred  charge 
laid  upon  him  by  Truca,  and  was  also  a  link  with  Eila  in 
her  own  way. 

The  veranda  looked  more  than  ever  like  an  old  curiosity- 
shop  during  the  last  days.  There  were  so  many  objects, 
utterly  worthless  in  themselves,  with  which  the  family  had, 
nevertheless,  sentimental  associations,  that  the  difficulty  was 
to  know  what  to  leave  behind — Truca's  ancient  collection  of 
dolls;  piles  of  manuscrii)ts  and  drawings  of  Dick's;  old 
school-books,  music,  and  copy-books  ;  j^resents  that  had  been 
broken  and  never  mended,  and  that  the  recipients  were  loath 
to  leave  behind  ;  odds  and  ends  of  stuffs  and  household  bric- 
a-brac  that  Mrs.  Clai-e  cherished  under  the  impression  that 
they  possessed  an  intrinsic  value  of  their  own,  apart  from 
the  use  they  had  rendered  her.  All  these  had  to  be  thrust 
away  and  wedged  into  the  spare  sjjaces  in  the  packing-cases 
and  trunks  that  encumbered  the  place.  Mrs.  Clare's  spirits 
rose  to  the  occasion.  She  and  Dick  revelled  in  the  disorder, 
and  for  five  consecutive  days  dinner  represented  a  kind  of 
movable  feast,  spread  out  in  the  guise  of  tinned  sheep- 
tongues  and  iienny  buns,  upon  the  top  of  a  packing-case  or 
a  corner  of  the  kitchen  table,  the  only  one  that  remained. 
Eila  found  that,  despite  all  there  was  to  do,  the  time  passed 
unsatisfactorily  enough.  With  no  more  clocks  to  consult, 
the  hours  would  sometimes  seem  to  fly,  whereas  at  others 
they  would  drag  wearily  through  a  whole  afternoon.  It  was 
comfortless  to  walk  through  the  dismantled  rooms,  strewn 


EILA  AS  EMISSARY.  135 

with  a  litter  of  paper  and  straw,  of  crumbs  and  dust.  But 
this  was  the  normal  atmosphere  in  which  the  family  now 
dwelt;  and  had  it  been  for  no  other  motive  than  that  of 
feeling  tidy  once  more,  Eila  longed  for  their  going  away  to 
be  finally  accomplished. 

The  evening  before  they  sailed  Reginald  came  to  Cowa 
in  the  dusk  for  the  last  time.  Eila  was  already  in  her  board- 
ship  attire,  everything  else  having  been  packed  away  on  the 
Queen  of  the  South.  It  was  of  some  shrunken  gray  mate- 
rial, that  left  her  wrists  and  ankles  exposed,  though  the  neck 
was  encircled  by  one  of  the  blue- white  paper  collars  of  which 
she  had  laid  in  a  store  in  view  of  the  impossibility  of  having 
linen  washed  on  board.  No  less  becoming  dress  could  well 
have  been  conceived ;  but  to  Reginald's  thinking  its  sole 
effect  was  to  make  the  wearer  look  pathetically  young  and 
irresponsible.  The  excitement  of  the  approaching  change 
lent  a  strange  lustre  to  her  eyes.  All  her  emotions  had  been 
called  into  play,  and  they  seemed  to  have  infused  a  new  in- 
tensity and  rare  glow  into  her  expression. 

She  had  come  out  to  Reginald  as  he  opened  the  garden- 
gate  in  the  twilight,  and  now  accompanied  him  to  the  bench 
under  the  decrepit  gum-studded  eucalyptus,  where  it  was 
their  w^ont  to  sit  of  an  evening. 

"  We  had  better  stay  outside,"  she  said,  as  she  seated  her- 
self by  his  side.  "  Dick  is  making  no  end  of  dust  in  the 
front-room,  though  there  is  little  result  from  it ;  for  he  came 
upon  a  loose  page  of  our  old  anthology — 'It  must  be  so, 
Plato ;  thou  reasonest  well ' — and,  of  course,  he  began  to 
spout  it  to  mother ;  and  when  I  came  away  they  were  argu- 
ing about  the  concluding  part,  and  looking  everywhere  for 
the  next  leaf  to  see  how  it  went  on.  I  left  them  then,  for  I 
have  been  packing  ever  since  tea-time." 

"  You  have  not  been  tiring  yourself  too  much,  I  hope," 
said  Reginald,  looking  at  her  anxiously.  "  You  don't  look 
quite  like  yourself  this  evening." 

"  Don't  I  ?  It's  this  absurd  old  frock  that  I  grew  out  of 
years  ago." 

"  No  ;  it's  your  face.  You  look  etherealized  somehow — a 
little  pale  too.    What  have  you  been  doing  all  day  ?  " 


136  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

"What  have  I  been  doing?"  repeated  Eila  gravely. 
*'  Two  not  very  happy  things,  you  will  say.  First,  I  have 
been  to  see  my  husband,  and  secondly,  I  have  bought  some 
poison." 

Reginald  looked  at  her  quickly.  There  was  a  deliberate- 
ness  in  her  manner  of  speaking  which  prevented  him  from 
supposing  that  she  was  making  an  ill-timed  joke. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  he  asked  almost  gruffly.  "  What 
do  you  want  w4th  poison  ? " 

"  I  don't  want  it  for  myself — at  least,  not  now — so  you 
need  not  look  so  angry.  Indeed,  I  hope  we  may  never  have 
to  use  it  all  our  lives.  But  knowing  the  risks  we  shall  run 
at  sea,  and  the  horrible  deaths  of  lingering  agony  we  might 
have  to  endure  if  the  vessel  caught  fire  or  foundered  in  a 
gale,  mother  and  I  agreed  that  the  best  thing  we  could  do 
would  be  to  find  some  kind  of  swift,  sure,  paiiiless  poison." 
She  enumerated  each  of  these  qualities  in  an  impressive 
voice,  having  obviously  rehearsed  the  sequence  many  times. 
"  Enough  for  the  whole  family.  If  all  hope  were  over,  and 
we  had  no  alternative  left  but  to  die  like  rats  in  a  hole,  it 
would  be  the  greatest  consolation  to  know  that  we  could  at 
least  die  together,  and  comfortably,  without  too  much  suffer- 
ing.    Don't  you  think  so  too  ?  " 

She  put  the  final  question  doubtfully,  though  in  giving 
her  explanation  she  had  seemed  to  be  quite  carried  away  by 
her  own  earnestness. 

Reginald  did  not  answer  immediately.  He  was  sitting 
a  little  bent  forward,  with  his  elbows  resting  on  his  knees 
and  his  hands  covering  his  eyes. 

"  I  don't  wonder  people  say  you  ai'e  a  peculiar  family," 
he  said  at  last,  uncovering  his  face,  and  looking  moodily  in 
front  of  him,  "  with  the  wild  ideas  you  are  all  so  ready  to 
take  up.  You  talk  of  dying  like  rats  in  a  hole.  I  should 
think  an  all-round  poisoning  would  be  the  nearest  approach 
to  that  you  could  make.  The  whole  idea  is  foolish  and  dan- 
gerous. It  doesn't  hold  water.  You  never  can  say,  no  mat- 
ter in  what  extremity  you  may  find  yourself,  whether  you 
will  not  be  rescued  at  the  eleventh  hour.  Why,  I  read  of  a 
man  the  other  day  who  was  sucked  down — sucked  right 


EILA  AS  EMISSARY.  13Y 

under,  mind — with  a  sinking-  ship.  It's  impossible  to  say- 
how  far  he  went  below,  but  he  rose  again  with  some  wreck- 
age, floated  clear  of  the  vortex,  and  got  saved  somehow. 
Where  would  he  have  been  if  he  had  been  coward  enough 
to  drink  your  poison,  I  should  like  to  know  ? " 

"Better  off  than  if  he  had  gone  through  what  he  did, 
perhaps,"  said  Eila  promptly.  "  Life  would  cost  too  dear  if 
one  had  to  buy  it  back  upon  those  terms.  If  I  had  got  so 
far  into  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  should  not 
thank  anyone  for  pulling  me  out  again.  That  man  you 
speak  of  must  feel  as  though  he  had  died  once  already,  and 
now  it  will  all  have  to  be  gone  through  again." 

"Well,  then,  there's  another  thing,"  continued  Reginald, 
unheeding  her  objections.  "As  you  know  nothing  about 
the  exact  degree  of  danger  to  which  you  may  be  exposed, 
there  is  a  risk  of  your  going  to  the  poison  when  there  is  not 
the  least  excuse  for  it.  There  are  Cape  Horn  gales  any 
landsman  might  be  a  bit  frightened  in,  though  they're 
nothing  when  you're  used  to  them.  I  shan't  have  a  quiet 
moment  now  I  know  what  you've  got  in  your  minds.  I 
shall  picture  you,  every  time  there's  a  bit  of  a  toss,  doling 
out  a  dose  of  strychnine" — he  shuddered — "like  Lucretia 
Borgia  or  Mrs.  Manning.  For  God's  sake,  Eila,"  he  im- 
plored, "  listen  to  reason  !  Don't  go  away  with  any  thought 
of  taking  your  own  lives.  Think  about  getting  to  your 
journey's  end  as  fast  and  as  comfortably  as  you  can  ;  that's 
quite  enough.  It  would  be  just  as  reasonable  to  keep  a 
stock  of  poison  here  at  Cowa  on  the  chance  of  there  being 
an  eai-thquake  or  a  landslip,  as  to  take  it  along  with  you  on 
board  ship.  My  only  consolation  is  that  no  chemist  would 
give  you  what  you  wanted.  I  believe  j^our  sure  and  pain- 
less poison  would  turn  out  to  be  a  little  rose-water  when 
you  came  to  test  it." 

"  That  it  wouldn't,"  cried  Eila  emphatically.  "  The 
chemist's  assistant  who  sold  it  to  me  used  to  be  our  gai'den- 
er's  boy  years  ago,  when  I  was  quite  a  little  girl,  and  though 
he  was  much  bigger  than  me,  it  was  I  who  taught  him  to 
read.  I  used  to  teach  him  in  the  wood-shed  in  the  evening. 
You  know,  he  could  never  have  got  on  as  he  has  if  he 


138  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

hadn't  first  learnt  to  read.  He  thinks  all  his  success  in  life 
is  owing-  to  it,  and  he  is  ever  so  grateful.  He  needn't  be,  of 
course,  for  it  used  to  be  fun  to  te^ch  him ;  but  I  know  he 
would  not  deceive  me.  I  went  one  day  to  the  shop  when 
his  master  was  out,  and  I  told  him  the  whole  story :  why 
"we  wanted  the  poison,  and  how  it  must  be  of  a  kind  that 
could  not  hurt.  I  told  him  everything,  in  fact,  and  he 
understood  thoroughly.  First  he  begged  and  implored  me, 
just  as  you  are  doing,  not  to  use  it.  He  opposed  my  idea  on 
every  ground,  especially  the  religious  one ;  for  he  belongs 
to  the  Baptists  here,  and  goes  to  chapel  on  week-days  as 
well  as  on  Sundays.  It  was  all  no  use  ;  I  made  him  yield 
in  the  end.  He  said  he  was  committing  a  sin  knowingly, 
and  that  I  was  the  only  person  in  the  world  who  could 
make  him  commit  it ;  but  he  gave  his  consent  all  the  same 
in  the  end,  and  to-day  I  went  for  the  bottle.  It  is  in  blue 
glass,  octagonal,  in  a  screwed-down  metal  case,  beautifully 
contrived ;  but  nothing  would  make  him  tell  me  what  it 
cost.  I  could  not  induce  him  to  take  a  penny  for  it.  He 
said  it  would  be  like  receiving  blood-money.  That  reminds 
me.  I  wish  you  would  buy  things  at  his  shop,  or  give  him 
a  present,  if  it  could  be  managed.  I  am  sure  my  commis- 
sion must  have  put  him  to  trouble  and  expense." 

"  I  will  do  so,"  said  Reginald,  "  without  fail ; "  and  he 
entered  the  name  and  address  that  Eila  gave  him  in  his 
note-book. 

"  There,  that  is  enough  about  the  poison,"  she  cried,  when 
he  had  finished.  "  I  promise  w^e  shall  not  go  to  tlie  bottle — 
how  funny  that  sounds,  doesn't  it  ? — unless  we  have  good 
reason  for  it — unless  a  worse  death  should  actually  be  staring 
us  in  the  face.  Try  and  forget  I  told  you  about  it.  You 
said  you  must  know  everything,  so  it  is  a  little  your  own 
fault.     Now  I  have  another  favour  to  ask  of  you." 

"  A  favour  !  " — he  interrupted  her  with  a  deprecating 
gesture;  "don't  speak  of  favours  between  you  and  me, 
Eila." 

"  Well,  a  thing,  then.  It  is  not  a  pleasant  charge.  It  is 
miserable  to  talk  about,  and  it  will  be  even  worse  to  do.  I 
want  you,  please,  at  least  once  every  month  to  pay  a  visit  to 


EILA  AS  EMISSARY.  139 

my  husband  at  the  asylum,"  He  bowed  his  head.  The 
mute  assent  conveyed  a  more  solemn  assurance  than  the 
most  vehement  declarations  in  words,  and  after  a  pause  Eila 
continued  in  an  agitated  voice :  "  It  was  sadder  than  you 
can  imagine  to-day.  I  went  with  old  Mr.  Frost  by  the 
coach  yesterday,  and  came  back  in  the  steamer  this  morn- 
ing. You  know  how  lovely  the  river  passage  is  to  New 
Norfolk  between  those  magnificent  rocks.  Well,  I  cannot 
see  it  now  without  shuddering.  It  is  full  of  such  cruel  asso- 
ciations for  me.  To-day  it  was  sadder  than  ever.  My  hus- 
band was  walking  about  in  the  small  reserved  enclosure  in 
the  big  garden  under  the  high  walls,  preaching  a  sermon 
AAdth  all  kinds  of  gesticulations  in  a  muttering,  delirious 
voice  that  made  his  words  sound  like  cursing.  They  wei'e 
curses,  too,  I  believe.  All  the  maledictions,  the  '  woes  unto 
you,'  the  '  anathema  maranathas '  one  can  find  throughout 
the  Bible.  One  of  the  keepers  was  with  us,  and  I  stood  be- 
tween him  and  old  Mr.  Frost  just  within  the  door,  and  tried 
to  make  my  husband  hear.  I  said,  '  Charlie,  you  do  remem- 
ber me,  don't  you  ? '  as  clearly  as  I  was  able,  for  my  voice 
seemed  to  choke  me  somehow  when  I  spoke.  He  looked 
round  then  for  a  moment.  As  long  as  I  live  I  believe  the 
recollection  of  that  look  will  haunt  me.  There  was  a  kind 
of  horrible,  ghastly,  threatening  mirth  in  it  that  made  one's 
blood  run  cold  to  see.  How  well  I  understand  the  idea 
people  had  in  olden  times  that  madness  was  only  being  in 
the  possession  of  a  devil  !  You  could  feel  that  there  was 
nothing  to  appeal  to  in  the  face — nothing  to  save  you  from 
whatever  death-torture  the  diabolical  fancy  of  the  mad 
brain  might  devise.  The  keeper  made  us  move  away  quietly. 
We  were  only  just  inside,  as  I  told  you.  He  kept  his  eye  on 
him  the  whole  time.  Then,  when  we  were  through  the 
door,  I  heard  a  kind  of  wild  scrabble,  followed  by  a  perfect 
torrent  of  texts  from  the  Old  Testament  about  women,  and 
the  things  for  which  they  were  to  be  stoned.  Oh,  it  was 
horrible  !  horrible  !  " 

Reginald  felt  her  shiver  in  the  warm  evening  aii*.     In- 
stinctively he  held  out  his  hand  for  hers,  and  enclosed  it  in 
his  large  warm  grasp  that  seemed  to  promise  all  kinds  of  re- 
10 


140  NOT  COUNTING   THE   COST. 

assurance  and  protection.  Furthermore,  he  placed  his  dis- 
engaged arm  about  her  waist,  and  drew  her  nearer  to  his 
side. 

"  My  darling,"  he  said  tenderly,  "  you  are  going  away, 
and  you  know  you  are  everything  in  life  to  me.  When  I 
think  of  your  position,  I  find  myself  wondering  whether, 
after  all,  I  am  best  befriending  you  by  putting  myself  on  the 
side  of  the  laws  that  govern  society.  It  is  monstrous  that 
you  should  be  debarred  from  finding  some  compensation  for 
the  grievous  experiences  you  have  been  through.  Some  of 
the  best  and  most  beautiful  years  of  your  life  have  been 
spoiled — irretrievably,  for  you  can  never  get  them  back. 
But  you  have  many  left.  You  are  the  sort  of  woman,  Eila, 
to  make  a  home  a  kind  of  paradise  for  your  husband  and 
children.  People  pretend  there  are  limits  to  earthly  happi- 
ness. I  suppose  the  happiness  of  being  loved  by  you,  and 
living  with  you,  is  beyond  what  can  be  looked  for  in  this 
world.  But  I  sometimes  think  if  I  had  been  richer  and 
cleverer  than  I  am  I  would  have  tried  to  persuade  you  to 
come  away  with  me  in  spite  of  everything.  Situated  as  you 
are,  I  believe  you  would  be  justified  in  making  a  fresh  tie, 
even  though  society  might  not  sanction  it.  As  for  me,  dear, 
I  think,  if  it  were  any  way  possible,  my  love  would  be 
stronger  for  the  thought  that  you  had  no  legal  claim  on  me. 
It  would  seem  to  make  you  so  completely  my  own.  I  am  a 
matter-of-fact  fellow,  as  you  know ;  but  there  are  times 
when  I  picture  to  myself  what  life  would  be  if  I  could  sail 
away  with  you  to  one  of  those  South  Sea  Islands  we  used  to 
cruise  around  when  I  was  on  the  Clytie,  and  I  get  a  notion 
of  such  dazzling,  bewildering  happiness,  it  almost  hurts  me 
to  think  of.  Even  as  things  are,  you  know  that  if  you  made 
the  least  sign  I  would  throw  everything  over  and  follow  you 
round  the  world." 

He  looked  at  her  with  wistful  passion.  Her  eyes  were 
luminous  in  the  gathering  twilight ;  they  wore  an  intent, 
listening  expression. 

"And  your  mother!"  she  said;  "and  mine,  and  Mamy 
and  Ti-uca !  How  wretched  we  should  make  them  all !  You 
would  not  be  a  bit  happy,  nor  I  either." 


EILA  AS  EMISSARY.  141 

"What  right  would  they  have  to  be  wretched  ?"  he  cried 
vehemently.  "What  business  have  they  to  sacrifice  you  to 
a  false  and  conventional  standard  ?  Let  them  put  themselves 
in  your  place  before  they  judge.  Besides,  I  think  I  know 
your  family  better  than  you  do  yourself.  They  have  never 
troubled  themselves  much  about  the  world  s  opinion — that  is 
certain.  They  go  their  own  way  more  than  any  people  I 
ever  saw.  I  believe  that  even  now,  if  I  were  to  talk  to  your 
mother  seriously,  and  to  tell  her  I  wanted  to  devote  my 
whole  life  to  you,  always  supposing  you  cared  for  me  one 
half-quarter  as  much  as  I  do  for  you,  which  you  don't — I 
believe  if  I  were  to  argue  with  her  and  get  her  to  look  at  the 
matter  in  its  true  natural  aspect — not  through  society  glasses, 
but  as  it  really  exists — it  would  not  be  so  hard  to  get  her 
round  to  my  way  of  thinking.  That  doctor  from  the  Prin- 
zessin  used  to  air  theories  that  would  have  made  another 
person's  hair  stand  on  end,  and  I  have  heard  her  agree  with 
them  all." 

"  Ah,  but  you  mustn't  trust  her,"  said  Eila,  with  a  meaning 
laugh ;  "  you'll  find  yoxirself  dreadfully  deceived  if  you  do. 
You  don't  know  mother.  There's  nothing  you  couldn't  con- 
vince her  of  at  the  time  if  you  get  the  best  of  an  argument. 
That's  where  she  is  so  different  from  other  people,  and  so 
delightful  to  argue  with.  But  it  doesn't  last.  It  never  lasts. 
The  next  day  she  has  thought  of  something  else,  or  her  feel- 
ings have  spoken,  which  are  much  stronger  than  reason,  and 
she  has  gone  back  to  her  old  way  of  thinking  more  strongly 
than  ever.  So  if  I  ran  away  with  you  as  you  propose,  you 
might  expect  mother  to  go  with  us  to  the  station,  and  wish 
us  joy  and  a  pleasant  journey  and  all  that  kind  of  thing, 
under  the  influence,  of  course,  of  all  you  had  been  saying ; 
and  when  we  got  to  Launceston,  we  should  receive  a  frenzied 
telegi'ara  from  her,  imploring  me  to  return  instantly  to  save 
the  family  from  perdition  and  I  don't  know  what  besides." 

Reginald  smiled,  but  it  was  a  gloomy  smile. 

"  I  can  answer  for  my  own  poor  mother  better,"  he  said  ; 
"  she  is  the  tenderest-hearted  creature  in  the  world,  and 
would  kiss  the  feet  of  my  wife  if  she  really  loved  me.  But 
she  has  hard  and  fast  rules  about  the  duty  of  wives  and  hus- 


142  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

bands  that  nothing  can  move  by  a  hair's  breadth.  You  see 
from  her  own  point  of  view  she  is  logical  enough.  She  be- 
lieves life  here  is  only  a  probationary  stage,  and  that  you 
must  accept  the  worst  trials  as  a  special  token  of  favour  on 
the  part  of  the  Almighty,  since,  by  coming  out  of  them  tri- 
umphantly, you  score  so  much  to  the  good  hereafter.  She 
would  believe,  if  we  came  together  now,  that  we  should  have 
to  expiate  it  eternally  in  another  state  ;  not  like  Paolo  and 
Francesca,  who,  at  least,  were  'blown  together  on  the  ac- 
cm^sed  air' — I  found  that  line  in  'The  New  Republic'  you 
lent  me — but  in  frizzling  separately  in  the  lower  regions. 
Out  of  consideration  for  her  feelings,  I  should  never  let  her 
know  the  truth." 

"  I  wonder  she  can  be  happy,  though,  with  such  a  be- 
lief," said  Eila  meditatively. 

"  I  used  to  wonder,  too  ;  I  don't  now.  You  see,  she  has 
the  primary,  the  fundamental  belief  that  infinite  Wisdom  is 
controlling  it  all.  Can't  you  see  what  a  difference  that 
makes  ?  The  very  appearance  of  cruelty  becomes  merely  a 
test  of  faith.  People  made  like  her  believe  they  believe  in 
hell,  and  act  as  though  it  were  an  existing  fact ;  but  they 
don't  let  that  or  anything  else  destroy  their  fixed  belief  that 
all  is  wisely  ordained.  After  all,  those  who  think  at  all  for 
themselves  need  not  go  to  the  doctrine  of  hell  in  search  of 
a  motive  for  doubting  that  there  is  a  good  Providence. 
They  may  find  it  quite  ready  to  hand  in  the  world  about 
them." 

"  Yes  ;  but  suffering  has  its  term  here  at  least,"  put  in 
Eila ;  "  it  is  the  going  on  of  the  other  that  is  so  diabolical — 
though,  for  the  matter  of  that,  the  going  on  of  anything 
without  knowing  how  you  are  to  stop  it  does  not  bear  think- 
ing of,  and  don't  let  us  talk  of  it.  It  frightens  me."  She 
drew  a  long  breath.  Then  in  an  altered  voice  :  "  You  will 
write  to  me,  then,  every  fortnight  ?  " 

"  Every  fortnight— yes — and  as  much  oftener  as  I  can." 

"  And  you  will  tell  me  every  scrap  of  news  that  concerns 
yourself — for  the  confidences  are  not  to  be  all  on  my  side — 
especially  if  you  meet  anyone  who  makes  you  think  a  little 
less  of  nae." 


EILA  AS  EMISSARY.  143- 

"Especially  if  I  meet  anyone  who  makes  me  think  a 
little  less  of  you.  But  how  can  I  meet  her  if  she  has  no 
existence  ?  " 

"  You  can't  tell  that — one  never  knows.  What  a  pity  it 
is  our  last  evening  !  I  shall  be  tormented  to-morrow  with 
the  recollection  of  a  hundred  things  I  wanted  to  say — and 
you  will  never  know  them  now." 

"  Put  them  down,"  he  said  eagerly.  "  Every  scrap  of 
your  handwriting  will  make  me  so  much  the  richer.  Never 
mind  if  it  is  about  the  veriest  trifles ;  that  is  just  what  I 
shall  most  want  to  hear.  The  important  matters  can  take 
care  of  themselves.  Never  stop  to  think  what  you  put  in 
your  letters.  I  want  the  words  to  come  warm  from  your 
moods,  just  as  I  am  used  to  hearing  you  say  them." 

"  Then  you  must  write  like  that,  too,"  said  Eila,  nodding 
her  head.  "  You  must  tell  me  how  many  quarts  of  milk  the 
Jersey  cow  gives,  and  how  often  you  meet  Diocletian." 
(Diocletian,  it  may  be  explained,  was  the  retriever  dog,  so 
named  in  virtue  of  the  resemblance  between  his  much-curled 
coat  and  the  sculptured  presentment  of  the  Roman  Emper- 
or's hair.)  "  Sydney  is  taking  him,  you  know.  By-the-by," 
as  a  sudden  thought  struck  her,  "you  do  go  and  see  the 
Wardens  sometimes,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Only  when  they  invite  me  to  a  tennis  afternoon,  or  a 
dance,  or  something  of  that  sort,  that  I  shall  never  go  to 
when  you  are  gone,"  said  Reginald  indifferently. 

"  You  ought  to  go,"  she  insisted ;  "  you  can  condole  with 
Sydney  when  we  are  gone.  I  am  going  to  tell  you  a  seci'et 
about  him — he  cares  for  Mamy." 

"  What !  Mamy  has  an  admirer  ! "  exclaimed  Reginald, 
smiling.  "  I  have  always  looked  upon  her  as  quite  a  little 
girl ;  but  I  am  delighted  to  hear  it,  all  the  same.  I  believe 
young  Warden  is  a  first-rate  fellow,  though  he  wants  lick- 
ing into  shape  a  little ;  and  rich,  too — there  is  no  doubt  of 
that." 

"  That  makes  no  difi'erence  to  Mamy,"  said  Eila  dolefully. 
"  She  is  terribly  trying ;  just  because  it  would  be  the  best 
and  most  reasonable  match  in  the  world,  she  sets  her  face 
against  it.     She  refused  Sydney  point-blank  the  other  day  ; 


144  NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

only  he  has  managed  to  persuade  her  to  promise  that  she 
will  listen  to  no  one  else  for  a  year." 

"I  suppose  it  is  a  pity,"  said  Reginald  reflectively — "  from 
a  worldly  point  of  view,  at  any  rate  ;  and  she  can't  take  to 
him,  you  say  ?    I  believe  myself  he  is  the  best  of  the  lot." 

"Oh,  but  Lucy  is  nice,  too!"  exclaimed  Eila  deprecat- 
ingly.  Her  promise  to  her  friend  rose  accusingly  in  her 
memory.  "  You  do  think  she  is  nice,  don't  you  ? "  she  added 
pleadingly. 

"  What  do  you  call  nice  ?  "  said  Reginald,  laughing  ;  "  to 
me  she  is  entirely  uninteresting.  She  does  not  even  seem 
like  a  flesh-and-blood  woman ;  only  like  a  laced-up  card- 
board or  guttapercha  kind  of  imitation  of  one  to  hang  fash- 
ionable dresses  upon,  I  am  sure  she  hasn't  an  idea  or  a 
thought  that  hasn't  been  put  into  her  by  her  pastors  and 
masters.  She  goes  to  balls  as  she  goes  to  church — by  rule  of 
thumb.  She  does  everything  automatically,  even  to  visit- 
ing old  Mrs.  Hunter  over  the  way." 

Eila  made  a  protesting  gesture. 

"  Poor  Lucy  !  "  she  interrupted  him  ;  "  how  little  you 
know  her  !  It  is  incredible  that  one  person  should  judge 
another  so  falsely." 

"  You  say  it  is  false  ? "  said  Reginald.  "  But  I  don't 
think  you  are  a  good  judge.  Miss  Warden  wakes  up,  I  dare 
say,  in  your  society.  Some  people  have  the  faculty  of  ra- 
diating, you  know — they  warm  and  brighten  everything 
that  comes  within  their  influence  ;  aiid  you  are  one  of  those 
people.  But  to  outside  mortals  like  myself,  she  is  very  com- 
mon]jlace  and  uninteresting.  If  I  wanted  you  to  under- 
stand the  difference  between  you  and  her,  from  a  man's 
point  of  view,  I  should  have  to  go  back  to  the  age  of  gold 
when  the  earth  was  young,  and  to  picture  a  landscape  with 
airily-clad  figures  in  the  foreground.  You  would  be  just  in 
your  place  in  such  a  setting  ;  you  would  seem  to  belong  to 
it,  as  though  you  had  grown  out  of  it.  But  Miss  Warden ! " 
— his  voice  assumed  an  unconscious  inflexion  of  pitying  dis- 
dain— "  what  a  poor,  inappropriate,  shivering  figure  she 
would  cut  !  She  would  be  nowhere  without  the  latest 
fashionable  clothes.    What  is  that  saying  about  God  mak- 


EILA  AS  EMISSARY.  145 

ing  the  country,  and  man  making  the  town  ?  I  should  say 
Natui*e  made  you,  and  the  milliner  made  Miss  Warden." 

He  stopped,  and  Eila,  though  she  laughed  in  a  vexed 
way,  did  not  immediately  reply.  The  moon  had  risen  and 
deepened  since  they  had  seated  themselves  on  the  bench,  and 
the  descending  garden  looked  weird  and  bleached  under  her 
pale  rays.  The  soothing  sounds  of  coming  night  blended 
themselves  into  a  soft,  discordant  chorus,  chanted  in  a  sub- 
dued key.  There  were  feeble  chirps  and  squeaks  from  the 
birds  in  the  apple-trees,  and  a  whining  accompaniment  that 
sounded  now  near,  now  far,  from  the  mosquitoes  circling  in 
the  air.  The  crickets  and  grasshoppers  whirred  and  snapped 
above  and  beneath  the  bushes,  and  a  distant  sound  of  whis- 
tling or  singing  fi'om  the  veranda  below  stole  upwards 
throvigh  the  darkness.  Eila  revolved  the  words  she  had 
heard  for  some  time  before  she  answered  : 

"  I  believe  you  are  rather  an  exception  in  your  way  of 
judging — I  hope  you  are,  at  least.  Men  like  women  to  be 
beautifully  dressed,  as  a  rule  ;  I  don't  mean  expensively 
only,  but  suitably,  in  soft  coloui'S  that  harmonize  well,  and 
in  things  that  fit  and  are  fashionably  cut.  Your  chief  griev- 
ance against  Lucy  seems  to  be  that  she  wears  pretty  things, 
and  that  they  are  made  in  the  latest  fashions  ;  yet  you  say 
yourself — what  was  it  you  said  ? — that  she  would  be  such  a 
"  poor,  inappropriate  figure "  without  them,  and  yet  you 
blame  her  for  wearing  them.  You  are  very  inconsequent 
and  unjust." 

"  I  blame  her !  Not  in  the  least,"  he  declared.  "  I  say 
she  is  dependent  on  her  dress  and  on  her  teaching,  that  is 
all,  for  being  what  she  is ;  and  I  am  indifferent  to  people 
who  have  no  objective  individuality  of  their  own,  either 
physical  or  mental — they  don't  interest  me." 

"  That  is  such  an  unreasonable  charge ! "  complained 
Eila.  As  an  introduction  to  the  sounding  of  Reginald's 
heart  on  Lucy's  behalf,  the  conversation  seemed  by  no 
means  promising.  "  It  all  comes  of  not  knowing  her.  You 
say  you  like  to  do  things  for  me.  Well,  will  you  cultivate 
Lucy's  acquaintance  a  little,  for  my  sake,  when  I  am  gone  ? 
Talk  to  her  by  herself — no  matter  about  what — just  as  you 


146  NOT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

talk  to  me.  Not  quite  like  that,  then,"  as  she  felt  rather 
than  saw  the  indignant  disclaimer  provoked  by  her  words, 
"  but  as  you  used  to  talk  to  me  when  I  first  met  you ;  and 
then  write  and  tell  me  whether  your  opinion  has  not  changed 
a  little." 

"  And  if  it  should — what  then  ?  What  is  to  be  gained  by 
it?"  he  asked,  with  a  certain  surprise  in  his  tones.  "That 
I  like  to  do  things  for  you,  as  you  call  it,  goes  without  say- 
ing ;  but  here  you  want  to  inflict  a  useless  i^enance  upon  an- 
other person,  as  well  as  upon  me,  for  I  don't  think  Miss 
Warden  would  be  particularly  grateful  to  you  for  inciting 
me  to  bore  her  when  you  are  gone." 

"  On  the  contrary,"  said  Eila  gravely,  "  I  think  she  would 
be  very  grateful  to  me,  and  very,  very  glad." 

She  said  the  words  so  solemnly  that  Reginald  checked 
his  rising  inclination  to  laugh.  To  a  man  who  had  been 
anything  of  a  Lothario,  her  affirmation  could  have  borne 
but  one  interpretation ;  but  besides  the  fact  that  there  was 
only  room  for  one  image  at  the  present  time  in  Reginald's 
heart,  he  had  never  looked  upon  himself  in  the  light  of  a 
conquering  hero,  as  far  as  women  were  concerned.  If  it 
had  not  been  too  dark  to  allow  her  to  see  his  expression,  the 
look  of  almost  alarmed  perplexity  that  her  words  had 
brought  into  his  face  might  have  amused  his  companion  in 
her  turn. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  he  said.  "  I  am  a  bad  hand  at 
taking  a  hint.  You  don't  want  me  to  run  away  with  the 
absurd  idea  that  Miss  Warden  honours  me  with  her  prefer- 
ence, do  you  ? " 

"  What  would  there  be  so  surprising  in  it  if  she  did  ? " 
retorted  Eila,  with  soft-voiced,  unconscious  flattery.  "  It  is 
always  the  round  man  in  the  square  hole  in  this  world  in 
everything.  I  haven't  the  least  right  to  betray  Lucy  to 
you  ;  only  you  are  not  like  ordinary  men.  If  you  thought 
she  cared  about  you  hopelessly,  you  would  not  be  vain 
about  it :  you  would  only  feel  pitifiil,  and  perhaps  more 
kindly  disposed  towards  her  than  before.  Besides,  you 
should  not  have  spoken  as  you  did  just  now ;  it  seemed  to 
G,gg  me  on  to  tell  what  I  knew,  just  to  show  you  how  mis- 


EILA   AS   ExMISSARY.  I47 

taken  you  were.  You  say  Lucy  is  made  of  cardboard  and 
guttapercha,"  with  a  scornful  little  laugh ;  "  whereas  in 
reality  she  has  much  more  of  a  steadfast  woman's  heart 
than  I  have..  I  know  it ;  I  feel  it.  I  don't  say  it  is  a  merit ; 
she  is  made  so.  Where  she  places  her  affections,  she  makes 
a  sacred,  durable  shrine  for  them.  Nothing  could  alter  her. 
She  dresses  as  you  see  because  her  mother  likes  it ;  besides, 
I  suppose  it  is  a  habit.  I  would  do  it,  too,  if  I  could  afford 
it ;  I  should  love  to  do  it.  She  is  not  the  less  a  woman  for 
that,  with  a  strong  nature  and  a  very  feeling  heart.  I 
thought  men  looked  upon  constancy  to  one  ideal  in  a 
woman  as  the  most  beautiful  quality  she  could  have.  I 
don't  know  why ;  but  I  believe  they  do.  Remember,  I 
know  Lucy ;  I  have  had  talks  with  her  in  which  we  have 
gone  far  below  the  surface — deep  down  beneath  the  little 
conventional  crust  at  which  you  have  stopped  short,  which 
you  have  never  pierced,  and  on  the  strengtli  of  which  you 
think  you  are  entitled  to  pronounce  an  opinion.  Well,  you 
will  have  to  owi]  yourself  wi-ong.  I  have  said  enough  now 
to  make  that  plain  to  you,  I  hope ;  and  for  the  rest,  many 
men  would  think  that,  even  without  her  money,  Lucy  War- 
den's love  was  not  a  thing  to  be  despised." 

She  stopped  a  little  out  of  breath.  Her  emotion  had 
spurred  her  on  to  talk  rapidly,  without  a  pause  or  break. 
Several  times  Reginald  would  have  interrupted  her,  but  she 
paid  no  heed  to  him.  Perhaps  the  very  certainty  that  she 
was  pleading  a  hopeless  cause  lent  additional  energy  to  her 
manner.  She  did  not  deliberately  set  herself  to  simulate 
generous  sentiments  in  Lucy's  behalf,  but  she  could  not 
help  feeling  that  it  was  easier  to  feel  generous,  easier  to 
constitute  herself  Lucy's  champion  with  the  foregone  con- 
viction that  Lucy's  cause  was  lost,  than  if  there  had  been 
any  risk  of  her  gaining  it. 

"  Is  the  jDrisoner  at  the  bar  to  have  a  chance  of  being 
heard  ? "  Reginald  asked  humbly ;  and  as  she  made  no  re- 
ply, he  went  on  hesitatingly :  "  If  you  are  not  mistaken " 
(she  shook  her  head  energetically), — "  well,  then,  granting 
you  are  not  mistaken,  I  need  not  say  that  what  you  have 
told  me  is  a  very  great  surprise  to  me.     Of  course,  I  take 


148  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

back  a  part  of  what  I  said.  Gutta-percha  women  have  not 
got  hearts.  They  don't  even  take  fancies  that  I  know  of. 
But  granting,  as  I  said,  that  all  you  have  been  telling  me  is 
a  fact,  what  would  you  advise  me  to  do  ?  What  is  to  be  the 
upshot  of  it  all  ?  Do  you  counsel  me  to  cultivate  Miss 
Warden's  acquaintance  without  delay  ? " 

He  put  the  question  carelessly,  but  his  heart  was  beating 
with  painful  suspense  as  he  awaited  her  reply.  Eila  was 
almost  deceived  by  his  tone  ;  they  had  entered  unwillingly 
upon  a  game  of  cross-questions  and  crooked  answers.  What 
if  his  allegiance  to  her  had  been  really  affected  by  the  un- 
expected revelation  she  had  made  him  ?  Could  it  be  pos- 
sible there  was  a  remote  chance  that  she  might  gain  her 
friend's  cause  after  all  ?  Then  what  signified  the  moonlit 
vows  on  Mount  Knocklofty — the  i^rotestations  of  eternal, 
unswerving  love  and  constancy  she  had  heard  ?  A  little 
bewildered,  vaguely  apprehensive,  moved  withal  by  the  de- 
sire to  be  loyal  at  all  costs  to  her  friend,  Eila  answered  in  a 
constrained  voice : 

"  Of  course  I  counsel  you.  Lucy  is  as  good  as  she  is 
rich." 

There  was  a  dead  silence  which  seemed  to  last  an  inter- 
minable time  to  the  couple  on  the  bench.  Then  Reginald 
said  in  a  dry  voice : 

"  You  advise  me  to  see  her,  then,  with  a  view  to  marriage  ? 
Is  that  how  I  am  to  understand  it  ? " 

A  simple  "  Yes  "  rose  to  Eila's  cold  lips,  but  she  changed 
it  for  "  That  is  the  advice  I  ought  to  give  you  as  a  friend " 

"  Never  mind  the  ought ! "  he  exclaimed  breathlessly, 
"  You  would  advocate  it  from  your  own  point  of  view  ? " 

"Well,  it  would  be  what  all  your  friends  would  consider 
a  tremendously  lucky  stroke,"  she  said  guardedly,  "A  wife 
who  would  idolize  you,  and  bring  you  a  big  fortune  besides." 

"  Oh,  Eila,  Eila ! "  cried  Reginald,  and  for  a  few  moments 
he  said  no  more. 

Nevertheless,  if  he  had  uttered  the  most  eloquent  and 
beautifully-worded  appeal  in  the  world,  his  protest  could  not 
have  sunk  more  deeply  into  his  hearer's  heart.  So  deeply 
did  it  sink,  indeed,  and  so  clearly  was  it  i-ead  by  her,  that 


BILA  AS  EMISSARY.  149 

she  clasped  his  arm  spontaneously  with  her  two  hands,  and 
rubbed  her  cheek  against  his  shoulder,  while  she  said  only 
these  three  words,  "  Do  forgive  me ! "  which  had  the  effect, 
however,  of  the  sweetest  balm  poured  into  a  wound. 

They  sat  silent  for  awhile,  and  he  stroked  her  head  in 
token  of  forgiveness. 

"  Why  do  you  like  to  try  me  ? "  he  said.  "  Is  it  to  show 
your  power  ?  That  is  an  old  story,  surely.  Why,  you  al- 
most made  me  believe  for  a  moment  that  you  expected  me 
to  take  your  words  seriously.  Do  you  know  what  it  means 
when  a  man  loves  a  woman  as  I  love  you  ?  It  means  that  no 
other  woman  exists  for  him  in  the  world.  That  if  a  fairy- 
tale princess,  with  diamonds  dropping  from  her  mouth  with 
every  word,  were  to  offer  herself  to  him,  he  would  turn 
away  from  her.  I  don't  believe  you  understand  that  kind 
of  feeling.  You  said  just  now  you  had  not  the  quality  of 
steadfastness,  but  you  inspire  it  in  others,  if  you  don't  feel  it 
yourself.  Of  what  use  would  it  be  for  me  to  cultivate  Miss 
Warden's  acquaintance  ?  The  sooner  she  forgets  my  exist- 
ence the  better." 

"  What  a  number  of  different  ways  of  loving  there  are, 
to  be  sure  ! "  exclaimed  Eila,  irrelevantly — "  as  many  as  there 
are  people  who  feel  it,  I  believe.  I  am  sure  there  must  be 
many  men  who  would  say  in  your  place:  'Well,  since  I 
can't  have  the  woman  I  would  have  fancied,  I  will  give  up 
thinking  of  her,  and  just  keep  her  as  my  friend ;  and  mean- 
while I  will  make  the  best  of  life  with  a  wealthy,  loving, 
virtuous  young  woman  as  my  wife.'  Don't  you  think  there 
are  many  men  who  would  argue  in  that  way  ? " 

"  Not  if  they  felt  as  I  do.  Besides,  I  can't  and  won't  give 
up  all  hope  as  long  as  you  and  I  are  above-ground.  I  would 
love  you  with  wrinkles  and  white  hair  as  I  love  you  now. 
And  long,  long  before  that  time  we  may  have  found  a  so- 
lution." 

"  That  is  another  way  in  which  you  are  different  from 
me,"  she  said  regretfully.  "  You  can  wait  and  be  bi'ave.  It 
always  seems  to  me,  when  a  thing  is  worth  having,  it  is 
worth  having  noiv,  or  not  at  all.  I  cannot  tell  whether  I 
may  care  for  it  even  by-and-by.     I  suppose  natures  are  dif- 


150  NOT   COUNTING   THE   COST. 

ferent.  We  can't  make  ourselves  feel  other  than  we  do, 
can  we  ? " 

"  I  don't  know.  I  suppose  the  feelings  may  be  moulded 
too — to  a  certain  extent,  at  least — by  the  will.  But,  then, 
v»^hich  acts  upon  which  ?  That  is  always  the  puzzle.  As 
you  said  just  now  of  Miss  Warden,  it  is  no  merit  of  mine 
that  I  am  constant  to  you.  I  simply  can't  help  myself.  I 
don't  believe,  all  the  same,  that  there  is  anyone  else  who 
would  have  had  the  power  to  develop  the  faculty  of  con- 
stancy in  me  to  the  same  extent.  Promises  of  fidelity  mean 
nothing.  You  can't  promise  to  feel.  You  can  only  prom- 
ise to  act,  and  the  action  is  worth  nothing  without  the  feel- 
ing. I  won't  ask  you  to  keep  your  affection  for  me  as  I  keep 
my  love  for  you.  If  once  you  come  to  think  of  it  as  a  duty, 
it  will  have  pretty  well  ceased  to  be.  But  I  will  ask  you  to 
make  me  a  promise,  Eila,  and  to  keep  it,  and  that  is,  first  to 
tell  me  the  truth  about  everything.  Don't  hide  things  out 
of  consideration  for  me.  There  is  no  suffering  you  can  in- 
flict from  which  I  might  not  recover ;  but  to  deceive  me, 
that  would  be  indeed  dealing  me  my  death-blow.  I  de- 
serve your  confidence — I  do  indeed,  my  dear.  Supposing  I 
had  used  such  influence  as  you  have  let  me  gain  over  you  to 
persuade  you  to  run  counter  to  social  conventions ;  or  if  not 
to  run  counter  to  them  openly,  to  let  us  be  all  in  all  to  each 
other  in  secret  ?  Supposing  I  had  worked  upo2i  your  fine, 
pitying,  sympathetic  nature  to  induce  you  to  surrender  your- 
self wholly  and  entirely  into  my  hands,  don't  you  think  " 
— he  spoke  rapidly  and  nervously — "  don't  you  think  mat- 
ters  might  have  ended  so  ? '' 

"  Yes,"  Eila  answered. 

Her  head  was  bent,  and  the  moonbeams  seemed  to  trace 
her  silhouette  in  silver  by  her  lover's  side.  Her  simple 
answer  moved  him  inexpressibly  ;  the  chivalrous  as  well  as 
the  passionate  element  in  his  nature  was  stirred  to  its  depths. 
He  bowed  low  over  her  hand  and  pressed  his  lips  to  it 
deferentially. 

"  You  are  my  queen  and  my  darling,"  he  said  humbly. 
"  Whatever  may  come  in  the  future,  I  hope  I  shall  always 
have  the  strength  to  be  glad  tliat  these  years  of  our  friend- 


EILA   AS   EMISSARY.  151 

ship  have  passed  as  they  have.  I  know  that  from  the  ordi- 
nary point  of  view  I  have  acted  like  a  fool — the  greater  fool, 
perhaps,  that  the  kind  of  scruples  which  weigh  with  other 
people  have  no  weight  with  me.  My  conscience  would  not 
have  reproached  me  if  you  had  been  indeed  what  the  old 
romancers  called  '  my  lady  love '  all  this  time.  I  would 
not  have  worshipped  or  venerated  you  the  less ;  but  I  would 
have  introduced  a  disturbing  element,  a  terror,  and  an 
unrest  into  your  life.  I  should  have  proved  that  I  loved 
you  for  myself— in  short,  more  than  for  yourself.  You 
understand  ? " 

"  Yes,"  Eila  said  again  ;  and  he  continued  once  more  : 

"  Then  I  may  believe  you  will  give  me  your  trust  and 
your  confidence,  by  right  of  my  love  for  you  ?  " 

"  I  will  indeed,"  she  said  earnestly.  "  I  will  tell  you 
everything,  I  promise  you." 

Reginald  was  fain  to  be  content  with  this  assurance. 
But  after  he  had  torn  himself  away  from  her,  and  was  walk- 
ing down  the  rough  road  through  the  moon-steeped  radiance 
of  the  summer  night,  misgivings  and  forebodings  that  made 
the  future  lie  black  before  him  crowded  upon  his  mind.  He 
loved  her  so  dearly — so  dearly !  It  was  because  he  loved 
her  after  so  exalted  a  fashion  that  he  had  refrained  from 
avowing  his  passion  to  her  until  she  was  on  the  point  of 
leaving  him.  But  he  could  not  say  even  now  whether  he 
had  acted  wisely ;  he  could  not  be  sure  that  he  had  taken 
the  best  means  after  all  of  ensuring  her  fidelity  to  him  in 
the  future.  Supposing  he  had  persuaded  her  to  regard  her 
first  miserable  marriage  as  a  thing  to  be  disregarded,  and  had 
bound  her  to  him,  as  wives  are  bound  to  their  husbands,  by 
a  tie  the  stronger  for  its  secrecy  ?  Might  she  not  have  looked 
upon  him  then  as  her  very  lord  and  master,  and  have  re- 
mained heart  and  fancy-proof  even  when  she  was  separated 
from  him  ?  Might  she  not,  indeed,  have  refused  to  separate 
from  him  altogether,  and  have  braved  the  world  ?  No,  he 
could  not  have  let  her  do  that  in  this  little  place,  where  the 
stones  aimed  at  her  glass  house  from  every  hand  would 
have  wounded  and  well-nigh  crushed  her.  But  might  she 
not  at  least  have  remained  under  the  roof  of  her  father-in- 


152  NOT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

law,  and  have  given  Reginald  such  hours  as  she  could  spare  ? 
If  his  renunciation  had  but  procured  him  the  loss  of  this 
imaginary  Paradise,  cast  her  loose,  too,  upon  the  world,  in- 
stead of  attaching  her  to  an  anchor  of  safety,  how  bitterly, 
how  eternally  he  would  rue  it !  If  it  had  but  exposed  her, 
with  her  impressionable,  exotic  nature,  her  irresistible  at- 
tractions, and  her  defenceless  position,  to  become  the  mark 
of  someone  less  scrupulous,  less  tender  of  her  than  himself, 
how  more  than  ever,  how  unavailingly,  would  he  repent 
himself  !  The  very  thought  made  him  shiver  in  the  warm 
night  air.  On  the  other  hand,  if,  by  teaching  her  to  deceive, 
he  had  exposed  her  to  a  different  kind  of  danger,  what  then  ? 
Had  he  not  read  in  some  French  novel,  wherein  he  had 
come  upon  some  other  wonderful  truths,  that  a  woman 
might  have  no  lovers  or  several,  but  rarely  one  alone  ? 
Supposing  he  had  only  succeeded  in  inclining  her  to  lend  a 
readier  ear  to  the  next  person  who  should  impress  her  fancy 
after  she  had  gone  far  out  of  his  own  reach  ?  That  was  a 
thought  not  to  be  harboured,  not  to  be  borne  for  an  instant. 
Reginald  walked  far  past  the  little  cottage  he  shared  at 
Sandy  Bay  with  his  mother,  under  the  influence  of  the 
dreary  thoughts  that  pursued  him.  The  scene  around  him 
might  have  whispered  peace  to  a  less  troubled  heart  than 
his,  for  town  and  harbour  lay  wrapped  in  a  silver  dream. 
Not  a  leaf  rustled,  not  a  ripple  stirred  upon  the  water.  It 
was  as  though  Nature  herself  had  feared  to  break  the  spell. 
And  while  he  was  hurrying  along  the  road,  blind  to  the 
calm  beauty  of  the  night,  Eila  at  the  cottage  was  seated  in 
her  own  little  room  writing  a  letter,  with  deep  intervals  for 
reflection.  She  had  only  her  mattress  on  the  littered  floor 
for  a  seat,  only  a  lead  pencil,  with  a  page  torn  from  an  old 
copy-book,  for  her  writing  materials.  But  Lucy  must  not 
be  kept  waiting.  Poor  Lucy !  Even  now,  perhaps,  the 
strain  of  hope  deferred  was  keeping  her  awake  while  all 
about  her  slept.  Eila  tried  to  temper  her  news  as  best  she 
could.  It  could  not  be  very  wrong,  she  thought,  to  employ 
a  subterfuge  in  the  telling  of  it. 


EILA  AS  EMISSARY.  I53 

"Dear  Lucy"  (said  the  letter), 

"I  would  have  written  before,  but,  indeed,  I  have 
had  no  chance  of  speaking  until  this  evening.  I  am  sure 
Mr.  Acton  likes  you  very  much ;  but,  Lucy  dear,  it  seems 
there  is  a  reason,  after  all,  for  his  putting  marriage  with 
anyone  on  this  side  of  the  world  away  from  him — for  the 
present.  You  hinted  at  something,  you  remember,  when 
we  were  talking  about  this  matter  in  the  veranda,  and  I  dare 
say  you  were  right.  You  must  look  upon  that  as  the  rea- 
son if  he  does  not  go  out  much  or  accept  many  invitations. 
I  should  try  and  put  it  out  of  my  head  for  a  time  if  I  were 
you,  especially  as  many  others  are  ready  to  kneel  at  your 
feet.  I  wish  I  had  more  satisfactory  news,  but  I  can  only 
give  my  impression  for  what  it  is  worth.  I  don't  tliink  the 
money  would  be  an  insuperable  obstacle  if  the  heart  were 
still  free,  but  I  have  strong  doubts  of  that  after  the  con- 
versation I  have  just  had. 

"  Your  affectionate  friend, 

"  ElLA, 

"  P.  S. — You  will  forgive  the  scrappy  paper  and  the  pen- 
cil.   Everything  is  packed  up,  even  the  ink  and  pens." 

This  letter  did  not  reach  its  recipient  until  after  the 
writer's  departure.  The  only  line  that  detached  itself  from 
the  rest  like  a  golden  rift  in  a  black  cloud  was  the  line,  "  I 
am  sure  Mr.  Acton  likes  you  very  much."  But  to  Lucy's 
great  sorrow  there  was  no  longer  any  ojjportunity  of  cross- 
examining  her  friend  as  to  the  means  by  which  she  arrived 
at  this  knowledge.  The  Queen  of  the  South  was  already 
lost  to  view,  and  the  degree  of  liking  professed  by  Reginald 
must  remain  at  the  unsatisfactory  stage  of  a  tormenting 
hypothesis,  to  be  interpreted  in  its  best  or  its  worse  sense, 
according  as  Lucy  was  borne  up  by  heaven-high  hope  or 
cast  down  by  cruel  and  sad  desi)ondency. 


154  NOT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

CHAPTER   IX. 

THE   VOYAGE. 

HoBART  Harbour  liad  never  looked  brighter  or  glassier 
than  upon  the  night  when  the  family  from  Cowa  was  rowed 
on  board  the  Queen  of  the  South,  lying  some  three  or  four 
hundred  yards  away  from  the  wharf,  in  readiness  to  haul 
up  her  anchor  and  sail  away  with  the  morning  breeze.  Tug 
there  was  none.  Dependent  upon  the  winds  of  heaven  alone, 
the  Queen  would  have  to  spread  her  canvas  and  tack  down 
the  bay  and  out  into  the  stormy  ocean  as  best  she  might. 
Mrs.  Clare  and  her  children  represented  the  only  contingent 
of  passengers,  save  a  paralytic  old  man  who  had  come  into 
a  fortune  in  the  Old  World  when  all  power  of  profiting  by 
it  had  left  him,  and  who  was  therefore  a  striking  illustration 
of  the  truth  of  the  cynical  French  proverb  that  Providence 
gives  us  nuts  when  we  have  no  teeth  left  to  crack  them  with. 

Mrs.  Clare  and  her  children  were  placed  in  possession  of 
the  stern-cabins.  Among  the  smaller  craft  in  the  harbour, 
the  Queen  of  the  South  appeared  worthy  of  her  royal  name ; 
and  as  the  family  from  Cowa  climbed  on  to  the  poop-deck, 
and  surveyed  her  length  from  stem  to  stern,  they  compared 
her  in  turn  to  their  long  veranda  at  home,  to  the  manifest 
disadvantage  of  the  latter.  Their  point  of  view  changed, 
however,  next  day,  when  those  sinister-sounding  contriv- 
ances called  "dead  lights"  having  been  put  up  over  the 
large  ports,  the  stern  cabins  were  converted  into  dark  dun- 
geons, and  the  occupants  thereof  lay  sick  unto  death,  heed- 
less of  the  crazy  tumbling  and  staggering  of  the  frail  little 
ship  abandoned  to  her  fate  in  the  midst  of  the  mighty  Ant- 
arctic waves.  The  heavy  Cowa  trunks  that  were  not  as  yet 
lashed  to  the  posts  of  the  bunks  in  which  the  travellers  lay, 
slid  over  the  uncarpeted  floors,  and  collided  against  each 
other  as  the  storm  increased.  The  shrill  shrieking  of  the 
wind  was  an  appalling  sound  to  unaccustomed  ears,  and  the 
creaking  and  groaning  of  cordage  and  timbers  was  only  less 
terrible  than  the  occasional  heavy  thuds  that  marked  the 
onslaught  of  some  giant  wave  upon  the  vessel's  stern,  caus- 


THE  VOYAGE.  I55 

ing  her  to  shiver  from  end  to  end,  as  though  some  mighty- 
hand  had  seized  her  by  the  keel  and  was  shaking  her  wildly 
to  and  fro. 

These  early  experiences  came  upon  Mrs.  Clare  and  her 
children  as  a  terrific  and  crushing  surprise.  For  the  first 
few  days  they  lay  like  souls  in  purgatory,  writhing  in  their 
cold  and  dismal  prisons.  A  horrible  feeling  as  of  being 
caught  in  a  trap  from  which  there  was  no  escape  had  taken 
hold  of  their  minds.  They  had  been  warned  that  they  must 
expect  little  alteration  in  the  weather  until  such  time  as  they 
should  round  Cape  Horn,  but  the  date  when  this  glorious 
consummation  might  be  looked  for  was  as  vague  as  the  one 
fixed  for  the  advent  of  the  millennium.  Shortly  after  they 
started,  two  Tuesdays  were  crowded  into  the  same  week,  "  as 
though,"  said  Mamy,  "the  weeks  were  not  already  seven 
days  too  long  for  all  we  have  to  suffer  in  them."  Eila's 
misery  was  sixfold  increased  by  witnessing  the  wretched- 
ness of  all  the  beloved  members  of  the  family.  Each  one 
suffered  according  to  his  temperament — some  uncomplain- 
ingly, the  others  clamorously. 

Dick,  who  had  maintained  that  vegetarians  and  Buddhists 
were  never  sick,  or  that  being  sick  they  retained  their  "  philo- 
sophic calm,"  was  one  of  the  worst.  His  groans  were  audi- 
ble even  in  the  cuddy,  where  the  morose  captain  and  his 
mates  dined  at  one  upon  scalding  pea-soup  and  bruised  boiled 
fowl.  At  the  end  of  five  purgatorial  days,  Eila  took  heart 
of  grace.  Someone,  she  told  herself,  must  set  an  example, 
unless  they  were  to  have  recourse  to  the  desperate  expedient 
of  emptying  the  poisoned  bottle  among  them.  That  it  would 
come  to  this  in  tlie  end,  she  was  occasionally  driven  to  fear, 
especially  upon  nights  when  the  wind  blew  so  furiously  that 
the  vessel  seemed  lost  in  a  boiling  sea  of  foam,  and  even  to 
stand  upright  for  an  instant  was  a  physical  impossibility. 
The  reflection  brought  such  a  sicken  iiig  clutch  of  anguish 
with  it,  that  upon  one  memorable  night  she  could  bear  it  no 
longer.  With  her  knees  trembling  beneath  her,  she  threw 
a  shawl  over  her  head — she  had  been  lying  half  dressed  on 
her  bunk — and  staggered  up  the  companion-way  to  the  deck. 
The  hatches  were  only  half  closed,  and  she  was  just  able  to 
11 


156  NOT   COUNTING   THE   COST. 

put  out  her  head  and  look  around  her.  Her  hair,  wliich  had 
heen  tightly  coiled  up  a  moment  ago,  was  torn  down  by  the 
wind.  She  felt,  as  the  long  dark  locks  streamed  out  behind 
her,  as  though  the  whole  mass  were  being  pulled  away  from 
the  roots  by  invisible  hands.  The  vessel  lay  under  close- 
reefed  topsails,  and  the  noise  of  the  gale,  as  it  rushed  howl- 
ing through  the  bare  rigging,  was  like  the  yelling  of  an 
army  of  demons.  The  night  was  dark,  but  the  reflection  of 
the  starlight  from  the  lashed-up  foam  showed  that  the  vessel 
was  lying  at  an  angle  which  made  it  appear  like  death  to 
walk  across  the  deck.  There  could  be  no  thought  of  sea- 
sickness now.  A  kind  of  numbness  that  was  almost  resig- 
nation seemed  to  creep  over  Eila  as  she  contemi^lated  the 
awful  scene.  "  I  do  not  see  how  any  vessel  could  live 
through  such  a  tempest  for  long,"  she  reflected  in  her  igno- 
rance ;  "  but  all  thought,  all  feeling  would  be  battered  out 
of  one's  brains  by  those  waves.  I  should  think  one  would 
be  knocked  down  breathless  and  swept  away  in  an  instant, 
and  surely  there  would  be  no  sense  or  consciousness  of  suf- 
fering after  that.  It  would  be  a  more  dignified  way  of 
dying,  too,  .than  by  sneaking  to  the  bottle  of  poison."  In 
the  midst  of  her  reflections  a  careless  movement  in  steering 
on  the  part  of  the  two  sailors  lashed  to  the  wheel  caused  the 
Queen  to  ship  a  tremendous  sea.  A  mighty  wave  swept 
over  her  deck,  almost  submerging  her  under  its  terrific  mass. 
She  staggered  from  stem  to  stern.  Eila,  drenched  from  head 
to  foot,  seeing  the  water  rain  into  the  cuddy  and  swirl  over 
the  floors  of  the  stern  cabins,  had  the  presence  of  mind  to 
rush  below  and  cry  in  a  voice  whence  she  strove  with  des- 
perate calm  to  expel  all  hint  of  the  heart-sick  teri'or  that 
moved  her.  "  Such  fun,  everybody — I  have  had  a  salt 
shower-bath ! "  and  thereupon  she  ran  to  encircle  Truca  in 
her  arms.  The  little  girl  was  shivering  and  whimpering 
with  cold  and  misery.  She  had  been  dreaming  of  the  green 
paddocks  of  Cowa,  wherein  she  had  been  blissfully  milking 
her  Jersey  cow  upon  a  fragrant  summer's  evening.  But  the 
cow  would  not  stand  still,  and  the  milk-pail  rocked  to  and 
fro  ;  the  milk  had  streamed  on  to  the  grass,  and  Truca  awoke 
to  see  the  salt  water  dashing  over  the  cabin-floor. 


THE   VOYAGE.  157 

"  Oh,  let  us  go  home,  Eila ! "  cried  the  child,  sobbing  and 
clinging  to  her  elder  sister ;  "  tell  the  captain  we  all  do  want 
so  badly  to  go  home  again.     Mother  wants  to,  and  all  of  us." 

Eila  tried  to  preach  reason  and  patience,  but  her  words 
carried  scant  conviction,  even  to  her  own  ears.  The  terrific 
turmoil  above  seemed  to  drown  the  sound  of  them.  If  the 
truth  must  be  told,  she  was  privately  very  much  of  the  same 
opinion  as  Truca  ;  and  there  was  nothing,  even  to  the  Cheva- 
lier's picture  and  the  imitation  ruby,  that  she  would  not  now 
have  gladly  thrown  overboard  in  consideration  of  being 
landed  safe  and  sound  with  all  the  rest  of  the  family  upon 
Hobart  wharf.  To  look  forward  to  the  arrival  in  England 
seemed  little  more  practical  than  to  look  forward  to  landing 
in  heaven.  In  fact,  the  last-named  place,  if  it  existed  at  all, 
seemed  much  the  moi'e  probable  goal  of  the  two.  It  is  need- 
less to  say  that  under  these  conditions  the  beginning  of  the 
journey  was  not  auspicious.  And  yet,  before  the  first  fort- 
night had  passed  away,  Eila  and  her  brothers  and  sisters — 
such  is  the  elasticity  of  youth — were  dancing  up  and  down 
the  slippery  decks  in  the  chill,  ice-laden  air  of  the  desolate 
Southern  Ocean.  They  had  passed  New  Zealand,  and  were 
in  the  region  of  gales,  icebergs,  and  white  squalls.  "  In 
these  seas,"  says  the  chart,  "  there  are  few  signs  of  life." 

They  saw  no  vessels,  and  but  rarely  a  whale.  The  small- 
est incident  in  their  lives  became  an  event  to  be  talked  about 
for  days.  The  sweeping  away  of  fifty  fowls  in  a  gale,  the 
capture  of  a  shining  white  albatross,  and  the  speculations 
after  he  had  been  chloroformed  by  the  mate,  despite  all 
Dick's  counter-ai'guments  concerning  the  future  fate  of  the 
spiritual  essence  of  albati'osses,  all  these  were  subjects  of  the 
deepest  interest.  Upon  a  vessel  of  five  hundred  tons  the 
crew  is  necessarily  small.  Before  the  Horn  was  reached 
the  Clare  family  laiew  the  names  and  histories  of  every 
mate,  every  able  seaman,  and  every  deck-swabber  on  board. 
They  knew,  besides,  the  names  of  every  sail,  spar  and  rope, 
and  could  take  the  ship's  bearings  with  a  little  help  from 
Mr.  Jonson  or  Mr.  McKenzie,  the  first  and  second  mates,  as 
well  as  though  they  had  been  destined  to  a  seafaring  life. 
Upon  a  French  vessel,  these  young  men — they  were  young 


158  ^OT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

men  still,  though  there  was  a  Mrs.  Jonson  at  Poplar  and  a 
Mrs.  McKenzie  in  Glasgow — would  have  lost  their  heads,  if 
not  their  hearts,  under  the  influence  of  the  beauty  of  young 
Mrs.  Frost.  But  Mr.  Jonson  and  Mr.  McKenzie  had  not  a 
drop  of  French  blood  in  their  veins,  and  belonged  to  the 
race  of  unconscious  heroes  who,  in  trying  to  act  up  to  the 
principle  they  have  learned  in  the  Catechism,  of  doing  their 
duty  in  that  state  of  life  unto  which  it  has  pleased  their  God 
to  call  them,  practise  a  daily  code  of  self-denial  by  the  side 
of  which  fastings,  flagellations  and  hair-shirts  are  as  noth- 
ing. There  was  the  most  entire  good  understanding  be- 
tween the  Clare  family  and  these  simple  and  loyal  sailors. 
Eila  forgot  for  the  nonce  that  there  was  a  great  wearisome 
solid  earth,  for  which  they  were  bound,  where  everybody 
was  trying  to  push  everybody  else  out  of  his  place,  and  be- 
came as  simple  in  her  thoughts  and  aims  as  the  people  about 
her.  Dick  renounced  vegetarianism  under  the  irresistible 
temptation  of  pickled  pork  and  peas  upon  a  day  when  the 
cold  salt  air  overhead  had  rendered  him  ravenous.  What 
with  gales  and  violent  winds,  before  which  the  Queen  of  the 
South  was  powerless  to  run,  it  was  six  weeks  before  the 
Horn  was  rounded.  Never  would  the  travellers  forget  the 
eventful  day  when  this  great  feat  was  accomplished.  The 
sea  was  calm  as  a  lake,  and  its  sapphire  depths  showed  deep- 
lying  emerald  gleams.  Two  ships,  the  first  that  had  been 
seen,  were  sighted,  and  Truca  shed  tears  at  the  idea  that 
there  were  other  human  beings  besides  themselves  at  Cape 
Horn.  A  distant  iceberg  appeared  like  a  glittering  jag 
against  the  horizon,  and  the  snorting  whales  spouted  reck- 
less fountains  in  honour  of  the  travellers.  With  the  ves- 
sel's prow  turned  northwards,  the  family  began  to  think 
that  England  might  possibly  be  nearer  after  all  than  heaven. 
Then  came  the  fierce  pamperos,  sweeping  down  the  South 
American  coast  at  Pernambuco,  and  the  tearing  gales  of  the 
roaring  forties.  Tliereupon  increasing  warmth  and  sun- 
shine, during  which  the  afore-mentioned  sinister  dead  lights 
were  taken  down,  and  the  stern-cabins  submitted  to  a  spring 
cleaning,  while  Mother  Carey's  chickens  fluttered  brightly 
around  the  vessel's  stem.     And  now  the  travellers  entered 


THE   VOYAGE.  I59 

the  Tropics,  and  were  driven  by  the  Trades  towards  the  Line. 
Here  the  Queen  had  a  fit  of  the  sulks.  For  eig-ht  mortal 
days  she  stretched  and  groaned  in  the  steaming  Doldrums 
with  her  sails  flapping  drearily  to  and  fro,  while  the  sea  ap- 
peared to  turn  stagnant  and  greasy  around  her.  Hideous 
sharks  swam  close  to  the  vessel's  side,  and  Eila  read  the 
"  Ancient  Mariner  "  to  her  brothers  and  sisters  in  the  midst 
of  the  realistic  mise-en-scene.  It  was  unspeakable  joy  to 
wake  one  morning  and  hear  the  lapping  of  the  waves  be- 
neath the  port-holes.  The  awful  calm,  the  unnatural  stag- 
nation was  over;  the  Queen  had  wakened,  and  was  walking 
through  the  waters  like  a  thing  of  life  once  more. 

The  last  interest  was  that  of  fishing  for  seaweed  and 
shells  in  the  Sargasso  Sea  ;  then  came  a  final  toss  in  the  Bay 
of  Biscay,  followed  by  the  overpowering  excitement  of  en- 
tering the  English  Channel.  At  this  point  a  change  came 
over  everyone  on  board.  The  steward,  a  little  man  with  an 
amount  of  dignity  in  inverse  proportion  to  his  height,  and 
two  eyes  that  took  contrary  directions — the  one  being  fixed 
on  his  lazareet,  and  the  other  on  the  lookout  that  no  dis-  ~ 
respect  was  intended — relaxed  visibly.  The  cajitain,  who 
affected  taciturnity,  not  to  say  grumpiness,  became  almost 
loquacious.  Even  the  paralytic  passenger  accomplished  the 
half  of  a  smile.  Mrs.  Clare  and  her  children  were  in  a  con- 
dition of  jubilant  excitement  that  found  vent  in  filling  their 
diaries  with  pages  of  impassioned  woi-d-painting  respecting 
the  green  English  coast,  as  smooth  as  a  billiard-table,  and 
the  gleaming  chalk  cliffs  that  supported  the  marvellous  turf. 
Their  emotions  upon  passing  up  the  Thames  to  the  docks 
were  so  keen  that,  when  night  came,  they  were  literally 
worn  out  with  the  work  of  wondering.  It  was  a  fine  night, 
and,  marvellous  to  say,  the  air  was  comparatively  clear. 
The  mighty  city,  with  its  lights  "flaring  like  a  dreary 
dawn,"  lay  close  at  hand.  Next  day  they  would  walk 
through  those  wonderful  streets,  and  see  with  their  bodily 
eyes  the  dome  of  St.  Paul's,  and  the  Parliament  clock,  and 
the  Tower,  where  Lady  Jane  was  beheaded.  They  had 
been  familiar  with  all  these  from  the  time  they  could 
speak ;  but  the  rapture  of  beholding  them  face  to  face  had 


160  NOT   COUNTING  THE  COST. 

seemed  utterly  impossible  of  realization  in  those  early 
days. 

The  family  held  a  last  meeting  in  the  stern-cabin  on  the 
eve  of  their  final  departure  from  the  Queen  of  the  South. 
They  had  Gravesend  prawns  and  fresh  butter ;  best  of  all, 
the  Gravesend  pilot  had  brought  on  board  a  bunch  of  sweet- 
smelling  daffodils  and  a  basket  of  English  strawberries. 
The  strawberries  were  amazingly  dear,  and  the  daffodils 
were  not  to  be  had  for  nothing ;  but  one  does  not  come  to 
England  every  day.  Mrs.  Clare  changed  the  fu^st  of  the 
sovereigns  belonging  to  the  slender  hoard  that  was  to  go  so 
much  farther,  and  to  do  so  much  more,  than  any  other  hoard 
in  the  world  ;  and  though  the  Gravesend  strawberries  could 
not  be  really  said  to  compare  with  the  Cowa  strawberries, 
every  member  of  the  family  declared  them  to  be  the  most 
wonderful  and  delicious  they  had  ever  tasted.  It  was  the 
same  with  the  butter,  which  was  not  like  the  butter  they 
had  obtained  from  Truca's  cow.  But  were  they  not  close  to 
the  dome  of  St.  Paul's  and  the  Tower  ?  and  could  butter  and 
strawberries  with  such  associations  as  these  be  anything  but 
the  best  butter  and  the  most  delicious  strawberries  in  the 
world  ? 

Next  day  it  behoved  the  family  to  leave  the  Queen  of 
the  South  for  good.  Dark  and  dreary  i>rison  as  the  vessel 
had  appeared  in  their  eyes  during  the  desolate  days  of  the 
early  part  of  their  journey,  they  were  inclined  to  look  upon 
her  now  as  an  ark  of  refuge.  She  was  already  abandoned 
by  the  mates  and  the  crew,  and  with  every  fresh  departure 
there  was  a  fresh  and  heart-rending  leave-taking  to  be  gone 
through.  Mrs.  Clare,  with  Willie  and  Mamy,  went  up  from 
the  docks  to  Baysvvater  in  quest  of  lodgings ;  while  Eila, 
with  Dick,  Truca,  and  an  old  caretaker  from  the  docks,  re- 
mained upon  the  deserted  ship.  To  while  away  the  time, 
they  made-believe  to  navigate  the  vessel  on  her  way  home 
from  the  Antipodes.  Dick  shouted  orders  through  his  hands 
frona  the  captain's  bridge,  while  Truca  stood  at  the  helm. 
One  rang  the  appointed  number  of  bells  from  the  bell  upon 
the  poop-deck,  while  the  other  responded  by  striking  the 
cracked  bell  upon  the  forecastle,  and  making  it  echo  the 


THE   VOYAGE.  161 

sound.  Eila  meanwhile  counted  for  the  twentieth  time  the 
boxes  and  cases  that  represented  the  family  belongings — 
seventeen  in  all — without  counting  shawls  and  rugs  made 
up  into  various  emigrants'  bundles.  She  did  a  great  deal  of 
thinking  as  she  wandered  up  and  down  the  familiar  poop- 
deck  through  the  long  June  afternoon,  looking  now  at  the 
masts  of  some  wonderful  East-Indiaman  at  hand,  by  the 
side  of  which  the  Queen  looked  pitifully  small  and  mean ; 
now  directing  her  gaze  towards  the  vast  mysterious  city 
upon  whose  threshold  she  was  standing  ;  anon  looking  over 
the  vessel's  sides  at  the  rank,  city-soiled  water  of  the  docks. 
A  strange  lost  feeling  crept  over  her  during  her  solitary 
watch.  Oh  for  one  friend  only  to  come  and  take  them  by 
the  hand,  and  bid  them  welcome  to  this  unknown  land ! 
What  rapture  it  would  be  to  have  Reginald  come  down  to 
meet  them,  and  lead  them  to  a  place  he  had  made  ready  for 
them  !  Di*eams  of  this  nature  wei'e  so  much  more  satisfac- 
tory than  the  reality,  that  Eila  gave  herself  up  to  the  plan- 
ning of  a  long  and  delightful  romance  in  which  Reginald 
was  supjjosed  to  have  made  a  gigantic  fortune  in  mining 
shares  the  very  week  after  the  Queen  of  the  Sotith  had 
sailed.  Naturally  his  first  thought  was  to  follow  his  friends 
home  in  the  mail-steamer,  and  to  take  a  furnished  house  for 
them  in  one  of  the  places  Eila  had  read  about — Hyde  Park, 
for  instance,  or  Tower  Hamlets ;  she  had  not  the  least  idea 
where  Tower  Hamlets  might  be,  but  the  name  sounded 
green,  and  homely,  and  historic.  She  even  composed  the 
phx-ase  in  which  he  would  tell  them  the  news,  and  planned 
the  exact  drive  they  would  all  take  the  next  day  to  the 
Crystal  Palace,  to  Hampton  Court,  and,  if  there  was  time, 
to  Madame  Tussaud's  as  well.  She  had  got  to  the  point  of 
their  starting  all  together  upon  a  European  tour  which  was 
to  embrace  Venice  and  St.  Petersburg!!,  when,  to  her  great 
joy,  the  rest  of  the  party  returned.  It  seemed  untold  ages 
since  they  had  gone  away  in  the  morning,  and  she  wel- 
comed them  back  as  though  they  had  returned  from  an  ex- 
pedition to  the  North  Pole  or  the  heart  of  Central  Africa. 
Dick  and  Truca  were  summoned  by  a  shrill  "  Coo-ee  !  "  from 
their  posts  of  responsibility  on  the  bridge  and  at  the  helm. 


162  NOT   COUNTING   THE   COST. 

The  little  girl  had  been  overwhelmed  by  Dick's  condescen- 
sion in  taking  her  play  seriously,  and  had  spent  a  very  en- 
joyable afternoon  ;  but  a  dinner  of  condensed  milk  and  yes- 
terday's rolls  had  inclined  them  all  to  be  hungry,  and  they 
greeted  their  mother  with  effusion  in  the  expectation  that 
she  had  come  to  take  them  to  supper  and  bed  on  shore. 

Mrs.  Clare,  however,  looked  dismally  tired — more  tired, 
indeed,  than  they  ever  remembered  seeing  her.  She  had  an 
almost  weather-beaten  air,  and  there  wei*e  dark  rings  under 
her  eyes.  Willie  and  Mamy  also  wore  a  solemn  aspect. 
Their  faces  were  lined  with  dust  and  railway  smoke.  One 
carried  a  bag  of  buns,  the  other  some  slices  of  ham  wrapped 
in  paper.  The  grease  had  worked  through,  and  Mamy  had 
taken  off  her  gloves  to  save  them.  The  first  thing  the  trio 
did  was  to  sink  down  upon  the  bench  by  the  skylight,  from 
which  they  had  so  often  seen  the  bulwarks  climb  above  the 
horizon  and  suxk  below  it  again  as  the  vessel  swung  and 
rolled  through  the  long  monotonous  days  spent  upon  At- 
lantic waves.  During  the  voyage  the  bench  had  served  the 
double  duty  of  seat  and  hen-coop,  and  had  been  carefully 
avoided  by  Truca  from  the  day  that  her  hapless  calves  had 
been  pecked  at  through  the  grating  by  an  inquisitive  fowl. 
Now  it  was  as  empty  as  all  the  rest,  and  the  family  might 
seat  themselves  along  it  in  an  undisturbed  row.  Mamy  was 
the  first  to  break  the  silence. 

"  London  is  too  big  !  "  she  said  despondently.  Her  voice 
sounded  weak  and  cracked  with  fatigue  and  underground 
railway  smoke.  "  And,  oh,  so  dirty,  you  can't  think,  Eila ! 
First  we  went  over  forests  of  houses  with  red  roofs.  I 
thought  they  would  never  end ;  and  such  miserable  houses ! 
Then  we  got  to  an  enormous  dark  railway-station,  with 
crowds  and  crowds  of  people.  The  air  smelt  so  funny,  and 
everything  looked  huge  and  dingy.  After  that  we  went  in 
a  train  in  the  dark  for  I  don't  know  how  long,  and  we  came 
out  among  streets  and  houses  with  dingy  gardens  in  front 
of  them.  It  was  still  London — all  London  ;  and  then  we 
looked  for  rooms  !  " 

"  And  are  we  going  to  them  now  ? "  cried  Eila  in  tones  of 
trembling  expectation. 


THE  VOYAGE.  163 

"  Ask  mother,"  said  Mamy  gloomily.  "  All  I  want  to  do 
is  to  get  into  my  own  little  berth  and  stop  there." 

"  We  will  leave  the  ship  to-morrow,  children,  I  hope," 
said  Mrs.  Clare,  in  answer  to  the  appealing  look  cast  upon 
her  by  the  others.  "  But  London  is  all  changed  since  I  knew 
it ;  it  is  not  the  London  I  remember ;  and  rooms  are  horri- 
bly dear  ;  and  I  might  have  thought  it  was  the  season." 

"  Then  we  must  undo  all  our  rugs  again,"  said  Eila  de- 
jectedly, "  and  camp  down  on  the  bunks  ;  for  the  mattresses 
are  stitched  up  in  canvas.  Dick  and  I  did  them  up  this 
morning.  Well,  it  won't  matter  for  one  night.  And  now 
shall  we  have  tea  ? " 

"  Mother  is  just  dying  for  tea,  and  so  am  I,"  said  Mamy. 

"  There's  some  tea  left,  but  nothing  else ;  and  we  must 
bribe  the  old  caretaker  to  let  us  stop  on  board  for  to-night." 
Eila  looked  doubtfully  in  the  dix*ection  of  the  old  man. 
"  Willie,  couldn't  you  find  some  place  close  by  where  you 
could  get  a  loaf  and  some  milk  ?  and  then  we  can  get  our 
tea  on  the  skylight,  you  know." 

Thus  it  was  that  Mrs.  Clare  and  her  children  spent  the 
first  night  of  their  arrival  in  the  great  capital  of  the  world. 
This  was  their  opening  experience  of  the  renowned  London 
season,  within  a  stone's-throw,  or,  rather,  within  a  few  min- 
utes by  railway,  of  all  the  most  marvellous  appliances  of 
nineteenth-century  luxury  and  civilization  that  the  mind  of 
man  can  conceive.  They  dared  not  adventure  themselves 
in  any  of  the  dingy -looking  eating-houses  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  the  docks.  Even  Willie's  short  absence  in  quest  of 
a  loaf  caused  them  more  anxiety  than  they  had  ever  known 
when  he  had  set  out  upon  a  Bush  tramp  of  indefinite  dura- 
tion in  Tasmania.  They  remembered  all  they  had  ever 
heard  or  read  about  mysterious  and  never-accounted-for  dis- 
appearances in  London,  and  Mrs.  Clare  mentally  resolved 
that  henceforth  they  should  never  go  out  less  than  two  or 
three  together.  Perhaps,  indeed,  it  would  be  as  well  for  all 
the  family  to  go  in  one  party  everywhere,  upon  the  principle 
of  there  being  safety  in  numbers.  People  were  never  garrotted 
in  large  parties,  as  far  as  she  knew.  Willie's  return  with 
the  loaf  was  hailed  with  a  shout.     It  had  been  already  pro- 


164  NOT   COUNTING   THE  COST. 

posed  that  Eila  should  go  with  the  caretaker  in  quest  of  him. 
There  was  still  a  tank  of  fresh  water  on  board — the  allow- 
ance had  been  scant  at  sea,  but  now  they  might  revel  in  it, 
if  they  pleased — and  the  steward  had  left  a  clean  tea-cloth 
in  a  forgotten  corner,  which  did  duty  for  a  towel.  When 
the  travelled  trio  had  washed  underground  soot  and  smoke 
from  their  eyes  and  hands,  they  came  much  refreshed  to  the 
supper  Eila  had  prepared  on  the  skylight.  It  was  late  in 
June,  and  the  air  was  dank,  but  warm.  The  long  twilight 
was  a  joyful  discovery  to  be  made  the  most  of.  It  was 
nearly  nine  before  the  supper,  consisting  of  a  pasty-looking 
London  loaf,  cold  ham,  buns  and  tea,  was  all  in  readiness. 
The  number  of  cups  and  glasses,  even  counting  the  one 
from  the  washstand  below,  only  came  to  four ;  but  Dick 
went  shares  with  Maniy,  and  Eila  with  Truca.  Fortunately, 
it  was  possible  to  boil  their  kettle  by  means  of  a  spirit-lamp, 
unearthed  from  the  bag  of  linen  for  the  wash.  Thus  it  came 
about  that  the  Clare  family  supped  merrily,  like  shipwrecked 
mariners,  in  the  very  heart  of  London.  But  their  spirits 
rose  with  the  ham,  the  tea,  and  the  buns.  The  very  next 
day  they  would  be  sure  to  find  rooms  exactly  suited  to  their 
tastes,  and  not  too  expensive.  Restored  by  the  tea  and  the 
rest,  Mamy  gave  a  concise  and  graphic  account  of  the  day's 
adventures.  She  described  the  fine  lodgings  they  had  been 
to  at  first,  and  imitated  the  disdainful  sniff  of  the  landlady 
upon  their  asking  to  see  the  rooms.  She  acted  the  scene  in 
which  they  had  tried  to  look  as  though  the  bedrooms  were 
too  small,  after  the  price — an  outrageous  one — had  been 
named.  She  related  how,  upon  boldly  mentioning  the  price 
they  could  afford  to  give  at  a  modest-looking  house  in  a 
back  street,  the  landlady  had  said  "she  could  give  'em  a 
basement,  but  nothink  more  for  that,"  and  had  led  them 
triumphantly  down  a  dark  staircase  to  an  underground 
room,  covered  with  oil -cloth,  in  which  was  an  old  gentle- 
man, with  spectacles  and  a  nose  like  a  radish  covered  with 
knobs,  who  had  shaken  hands  with  Mamy,  and  asked  her 
huskily  if  she  would  like  to  see  his  collection  of  butterflies. 

"  I  thought  the  season  was  like  the  weather,"  said  Mamy 
in  conclusion,  "something  that  everybody  in  London  had  a 


THE  VOYAGE.  165 

share  in  and  a  right  to  enjoy ;  but  I  see  it  isn't  that  at  all.  I 
think  it's  only  meant  for  people  who  are  dressed  differently 
from  us." 

"  And  I  thoug-lit  you  looked  so  nice,  all  in  your  Hobart 
mantles,  and  Willie  with  his  best  suit  not  a  year  old,  when 
you  left  the  shij)  this  morning-,"  said  Eila  in  a  pained  voice. 

"Well,  perhaps  it  isn't  our  clothes,  after  all.  I  don't 
know  what  it  is ;  but  if  you  could  see  how  people  stared  at 
us,  and  how  the  landladies,  the  ones  who  condescended  to 
listen  to  us  at  all,  looked  at  us ! " 

"  They  looked  as  if  you  were  country  cousins,  I  suppose  ? " 
said  Eila  cheerfully.     "  Well,  we  needn't  mind  that." 

"  Oh,  it  was  worse  than  that !  Some  of  them  had  a  look 
of  suspicion  and  contempt.  And  when  I  remember  how  in 
Hobart  everybody  had  a  smile  and  a  nod  for  vis,  to-day  I  had 
a  feeling  of  terror  when  I  thought  how  awfully  alone  we 
were." 

"Well,  it's  done  now,"  said  Willie,  "so  we'd  better  make 
the  best  of  it.  I've  got  my  recommendation  from  the  bank 
to  back  me  up.  I  mean  to  look  for  a  billet  as  soon  as  we're 
any  way  settled.  Good  night,  mother.  I'm  going  to  camp 
down  upon  the  forecastle.  We'd  better  be  all  off  in  a  body 
to-mori'ow  morning.  The  captain  said  we  could  stop  on  one 
night,  and  we'd  better  not  wait  to  be  told  to  clear  out,  for 
that's  what  it'll  come  to  next,  I  expect." 

"  I  wish  I  knew  if  peojjle  could  help  doing  things  in  this 
world,"  said  Mamy. 

"  I  don't  believe  they  can  altogethei*,"  said  Willie. 

His  brothers  and  sisters  looked  up  in  sui^prise.  It  was  an 
extremely  rare  occurrence  for  Willie's  voice  to  be  heard  when 
the  ever-recurring  metaphysical  discussions  were  started  by 
the  rest. 

"  How  do  you  know  whether  they  can  at  all  ? "  queried 
Eila  slowly.  She  paused,  as  though  seeking  for  words  to 
appropriately  clothe  a  thought  that  had  been  long  turned 
over  in  her  mind.  "  I  have  very  often  thought,"  she  con- 
tinued— "  I  don't  think  I've  said  it  before — I  have  very  often 
thought,  though,  that  perhaps  what  people  call  the  "  course 
of  time  "  may  be  really  only  a  kind  of  slow  unfolding  of 


1(5(3  NOT  COUNTING   THE   COST. 

some  tremendous  chart,  upon  which  every  single  event,  the 
biggest  and  the  tiniest,  that  is  to  happen  in  the  universe,  is 
stamped  beforehand  in  indelible  ink." 

"  The  '  as  it  w^as  in  the  beginning '  and  '  is  now,  and  ever 
shall  be,  Amen  ! '  "  said  Dick,  with  a  lugubrious  laugh. 
"  Well,  if  that  is  so,  our  journey  home  was  traced  on  the 
chart  before  we  were  born,  and— we  couldn't  help  our- 
selves." 

A  dismayed  silence  fell  upon  the  gi'oup,  until  Truca's 
childish  voice  was  piped  in  plaintive  protest : 

"  But  what  a  trouble  for  anyone  to  make  such  a  chart, 
and  to  put  all  the  mistakes  in  too,  and  then  just  to  sit  down 
and  wait  for  them  all  to  happen  !  I  don't  see  any  good  in 
that." 

"  It  will  have  to  be  made  clear  to  our  spiritual  essences 
by-and-by,"  began  Mrs.  Clare. 

But  as  this  assertion  was  the  accustomed  signal  for  a 
discussion  of  indefinite  length,  and  as  the  stars  had  now 
come  out,  the  family  crept  below,  to  stretch  themselves 
upon  their  hard  couches  and  wish  they  were  back  in  the 
Tropics — even  at  tliis  pass  they  could  not  wish  themselves 
back  near  the  Horn — with  their  dinner  of  boiled  fowl  and 
bacon  a  prospect  to  be  reckoned  upon  with  certainty  for 
the  morrow,  and  no  thought  to  be  taken  for  the  secixr- 
ing  of  their  bed  and  board. 


CHAPTER  X. 

IN   PARIS. 

Evolutionists  tell  us,  and  our  own  experience  has 
taught  us,  that  improved  conditions  of  living  are  conducive 
to  the  maintenance  and  propagation  of  the  human  race. 
Yet  we  occasionally  meet  with  instances — as  in  the  case  of 
the  Australian  blacks — where  the  substitution  of  clothes 
and  houses  for  bare  bodies  and  the  naked  earth  has  the  un- 
expected result  of   destroying  rather  than  preserving  the 


IN  PARIS.  167 

individual.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  we  apply  the  experiment 
in  an  inverse  sense,  and  take  an  ordinarily  healthy  man  in 
the  prime  of  life  who  has  been  born  in  what  is  called  the 
lap  of  luxury — who  has  had  his  coats  made  at  Poole's,  and 
his  rooms  warmed  by  hot-water  tubes — and  place  him  in  the 
same  conditions  as  those  which  surround  the  primitive  man, 
we  shall  find,  to  our  surprise,  that  he  will  adapt  himself 
admirably  to  the  new  order  of  things — that  he  can  subsist 
upon  fish  and  roots,  can  sleep  upon  the  ground,  can  make 
shift  with  the  skins  of  wild  beasts  for  a  garment,  or  even,  if 
the  weather  is  warm,  with  the  sole  skin  that  Nature  has 
given  him  at  his  birth ;  and  that,  far  from  dying  under  this 
unfamiliar  regime,  he  will  frequently,  as  Eip  Van  Winkle 
says,  "live  long  and  prosper,"  the  prosperity  being  under- 
stood naturally  in  a  purely  physical  sense.  What  are  we  to 
infer  from  this  fact  ?  That  tlie  higher  the  organism,  the 
more  easily  it  can  adapt  itself  to  altered  conditions  ;  or  only 
that  it  is  always  easier  to  descend  than  to  mount  in  the 
scale  of  being,  whether  we  regard  ourselves  as  social  units 
or  merely  as  superior  specimens  of  apes. 

If  the  former  hypothesis  be  correct,  it  is  to  be  feared  that 
the  Clare  family  had  not  as  yet  reached  the  height  which 
makes  descent  easy.  They  could  have  adapted  themselves, 
certainly,  like  the  gipsies,  the  savages,  or  other  of  the  chil- 
dren of  Nature,  to  living  under  a  tent  or  in  a  waggon,  pro- 
vided there  had  been  open  spaces  to  roam  over,  and  the  free 
air  of  heaven  to  blow  in  their  faces  ;  but  the  lack  of  elbow- 
room  consequent  upon  being  crowded  together  in  a  few 
dingy  rooms  was  a  change  to  which  they  could  not  accus- 
tom themselves.  Even  at  Cowa  there  had  been  occasional 
friction.  Members  of  the  same  family  are  not  intended  by 
Nature  to  live  all  together  under  one  roof  after  they  have 
reached  a  certain  age,  any  more  than  the  pea-pods  are  des- 
tined to  remain  pressed  in  the  same  husk  when  they  arrive 
at  bursting-point.  While  individuals  are  yet  in  their  in- 
fancy and  childhood,  they  have  the  resource  of  sparring 
and  fighting,  a  process  more  conducive  to  the  establishment 
of  fundamental  good-fellowship  than  the  good  Dr.  Watts 
suspected ;  but  when  they  reach  the  age  of  reason,  they  are 


1(58  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

deprived  of  this  wliolesome  outlet  for  their  preponderant 
individualities. 

Among  Eastern  races,  where  rig-id  custom  so  moulds  the 
individual  that  he  has  little  or  no  identity  of  his  owu,  and 
where  an  entire  class  is  submitted  to  the  authority  of  an 
autocratic  patriarch,  adult  family  life  may  perhaps  be  car- 
ried on  smoothly  enough.  Not  so  among  our  independent 
Western  communities,  where  all  the  members  feel  and 
think  for  themselves,  and  where  many  among  them  are 
endowed  with  passionate  individualities  and  strong  idio- 
syncrasies. In  their  case  it  is  difficult  for  grown-up  mem- 
bers of  the  same  family  to  live  in  entire  harmony  in  each 
other's  unrelieved  society.  That  no  house  is  large  enougli 
to  shelter  two  families  is  a  proverb  of  Western  origin.  The 
very  points  that  brothers  and  sisters  share  in  common  serve 
to  disunite  them,  for  defects  we  tolerate  in  ourselves  become 
intolerable  when  we  see  them  reflected  in  others.  In  fact, 
notwithstanding  the  deeply-rooted  affection  that  members 
of  the  same  family  will  and  do  profess  for  each  other,  they 
are  often  obliged  to  own  that  they  "  get  on "  better  with 
strangers. 

Lack  of  elbow-room  did  not,  however,  cause  the  members 
of  the  Clare  family  to  "  fall  out "  and  rage  and  fight  (to  quote 
Dr.  Watts  again)  at  this  crisis  of  their  lives.  They  felt,  indeed, 
more  inclined  to  cling  to  each  other  than  before  by  reason  of 
their  utter  loneliness.  The  Clare  family  fled  from  London 
to  Paris  almost  as  soon  as  they  had  regained  the  possession 
of  their  luggage  from  the  docks,  carrying  away  only  a  night- 
mare impression  of  the  bewildering  marvels  of  the  mightiest 
of  cities.  Their  first  attempt  at  housekeejping  in  Paris  was 
to  "  camp  down,"  in  the  most  literal  sense  of  the  word,  upon 
the  fourth  story  of  a  large  house  on  the  Boulevard  de  TOb- 
servatoire,  the  which,  as  denisons  of  the  Quartier  Latin 
know,  is  but  a  new  and  showy  enlargement  of  the  noisy 
Boulevard  St.  Michel.  This  part  of  Paris,  indeed,  tacked  on 
to  the  old  classic  precincts  of  the  Pantheon,  the  ancient 
Church  of  St.  Genevieve,  and  the  venerable  Musee  de  Gluny 
is  all  brand-new  and  modern.  The  locality  pleased  the  wan- 
derers— in  the  first  place,  because  it  allowed  them  to  look 


IN  PARIS.  169 

across  a  wide  open  space,  with  a  fountain  in  its  midst,  that 
lay  in  front  of  tlie  house,  to  the  gardens  of  the  Observatoire, 
an  ofPshoot  of  the  Luxembourg  Gardens  farther  down,  while 
a  wide  expanse  of  gay  green  tree-tops  greeted  tlieir  eyes 
every  time  they  looked  forth  from  the  little  balcony  in  front 
of  their  rooms ;  in  the  second,  because  the  changing  scene 
in  the  wide  space  below  was  an  amusing  aspect  of  Paris  life 
to  watch  from  their  windows.  All  kinds  of  unfamiliar 
sights  and  sounds  called  them  to  the  balcony  at  odd  mo- 
ments. Now  it  was  a  monster  tram  that  went  rolling  by, 
the  conductor  blowing  his  note  of  warning  upon  a  dreary 
horn  that  emitted  a  sound  like  a  donkey's  bray ;  then  the 
workmen  in  blouses,  or  the  fat  hatless  women,  in  neat  black 
skirts  with  white  morning  camisoles,  who  sat  on  the  top. 
Grisettes,  with  their  shiny  black  hair  coiled  up  in  unim- 
peachable twists,  passed  below  the  windows ;  little  soldiers 
in  their  uniforms  of  blue  and  turkey-red ;  students  of  every 
colour  and  nationality— from  the  coal-black  elegant  of  the 
Isle  of  Bourbon  or  Martinique,  in  the  latest  cut  of  coat,  to 
the  unkempt  Russian  Nihilist,  the  American  eleve  des  beaux 
arts,  or  the  rapin  from  the  provinces.  Most  of  the  men  car- 
ried a  portfolio,  a  book,  or  a  box  of  colours ;  everyone  had 
the  badge  of  his  calling.  The  family  from  the  Antipodes 
beheld  the  life  around  them  as  though  they  had  been  dropped 
into  it  from  another  planet ;  they  had  no  comprehension  of 
it,  nor  it  of  them.  In  the  general  way,  visitors  to  Paris  of 
the  country  cousin  or  tourist  kind  gain  some  slight  knowl- 
edge of  the  inhabitants  and  their  customs  from  the  conver- 
sations they  hear  in  the  pensions  at  which  they  stay ;  or, 
failing  this,  through  the  yet  more  insufficient  medium  of 
hotel-life  and  the  theatres.  But  none  of  these  sources  of  in- 
formation were  at  the  command  of  Mi's.  Clare  and  her  chil- 
dren. They  had  drifted  to  Paris  with  bag  and  baggage,  had 
left  their  luggage  at  the  Gare  du  Nord  on  a  July  morning, 
and  had  straggled  in  a  band  of  five  in  search  of  shelter. 
Willie  was  not  with  them.  Through  the  recommendation 
of  the  manager  of  the  Tasmanian  branch  of  the  bank  to 
which  he  had  applied  in  London,  he  had  been  taken  on  for 
a  short  time  to  supply  the  place  of  a  junior  clerk  who  was  ill. 


170  NOT   COUNTING   THE   COST. 

The  salary  was  barely  forty  pounds  a  year ;  but  Willie  had 
snatched  at  the  opportunity,  and,  in  the  proud  sense  of  be- 
ing left  behind  alone,  self-supporting  and  independent,  in 
the  wonderful  city  of  London,  was  perhaps  the  least  to  be 
pitied  of  the  exiles.  As  to  the  remainder  of  the  family,  they 
had  turned  their  gaze  to  Paris  as  to  a  kind  of  Promised 
Land.  They  had  studied  a  map  of  it,  and  had  learned  that 
the  Luxembourg '  side  of  the  river  was  less  dear  than  the 
Elysees  side. 

Towards  the  Luxembourg,  therefore,  they  had  directed 
their  steps,  and  after  a  fruitless  search  in  quest  of  furnished 
apartments,  which  seemed  to  be  all  ludicrously  beyond  their 
means,  had  "  fetched  up  "  in  front  of  a  gaunt  new  building  on 
the  Boulevard  de  I'Observatoire,  placarded  all  over  its  yet 
damp  walls  with  "  Appartements  grands  et  petits  a  louer 
presentement,"  in  great  capitals.  There  were  two  conciei'ges, 
a  man  and  his  wife,  who  occupied  a  dark  den  at  the  back  of 
the  entrance-passage  on  the  lower  floor,  and  to  these  they 
had  applied  for  information.  The  man  was  small  and  evil- 
looking.  The  woman  was  large  and  bore  a  falsely  jovial 
air,  for  there  lurked  a  something  in  her  eye  which  betrayed 
that  it  would  not  be  well  to  fall  out  with  her,  and  that  re- 
minded Eila  of  Victor  Cherbuliez's  warning  that  it  is  well 
in  this  lower  world  to  be  on  good  terms  with  your  conscience 
and  your  concierge.  Both  concierges  stared  at  the  travellers 
with  suspicion  in  their  look.  It  was  evident  that  they  had 
no  accredited  protector  with  them,  for  Dick  was  a  minor, 
and  therefore  did  not  count.  The  male  concierge  consented, 
however,  to  lead  them  up  the  four  flights  of  stairs  that  led 
to  the  quatrieme,  and  to  show  them  the  apartment  they 
coveted.  Wearied  out  with  their  long  trudge  and  the  dusty 
glitter  of  a  Jvily  day  in  the  noisy  Paris  streets,  they  could 
have  found  it  in  their  hearts  to  sit  upon  the  staircase  and 
weep.  The  rooms,  nevertheless,  excited  their  enthusiasm. 
There  were  three  with  a  front  view  upon  the  Place  de  I'Ob- 
servatoire, and  one  in  the  rear  that  overlooked  a  small  court- 
yard enclosed  by  the  backs  of  a  block  of  prodigiously  tall 
houses.  The  aspect  of  this  yard  was  as  the  abomination  of 
desolation,  in  its  foetid  darkness.     It  was  almost  impossible 


IN  PARIS.  171 

to  see  to  the  bottom  of  its  gloomy  depths.  The  sides  of  tlie 
houses  surrounding-  it  were  smirched  with  hideous  stains. 
Its  very  existence  suggested  a  nightmare  of  being  "  hurled 
headlong  to  bottomless  perdition,"  and  the  family  turned 
away  from  contemplating  it  with  a  shudder.  The  front 
rooms,  however,  they  declared  with  one  accord  to  be  "jolly." 
The  house  w^as  new,  and  the  ceiling  of  the  centre-room  was 
painted,  to  Truca's  immense  delight,  in  imitation  of  the  sky, 
with  a  lark  on  the  wing  darting  across  it.  The  floors  were 
of  highly  polished  wood.  There  was  a  miniature  kitchen  at 
the  back,  somewhat  dark,  but  still  large  enough  to  allow  a 
full-sized  person  to  turn  round  in  it,  where  the  concierge 
patronizingly  informed  them  they  could  "  faire  leur  petit 
tripot."  No  bath,  but  water  laid  on  in  the  kitchen,  and 
small  stone  balconies  in  front  of  each  window,  wherein,  if 
one  were  not  over-stout,  one  might  wedge  a  chair  and  sit  as 
in  an  opera-box,  with  the  Place  de  I'Observatoire  for  a  stage. 
It  was  certainly  a  dizzy  height  to  look  down  from,  but  the 
concierge  declared  proudly  that  it  was  a  view  "comme  on 
n'en  trouve  pas— quoi!"  His  final  "quoi"  was  a  kind  of 
challenge  to  contradict  him  if  you  dared,  and  though  the 
July  sun  flooded  the  rooms  oppressivelj'-,  it  could  not  be 
gainsaid  that  there  would  be  compensation  in  looking  out 
by-and-by  upon  the  red  and  gold  of  the  sunset  sky  across 
the  summer  greenery  of  the  Luxembovirg  Gardens.  The 
mention  of  the  rent,  which  amounted  with  the  "  contribu- 
tions "  to  little  less  than  fifty  pounds,  sent  a  shiver  through 
the  family  collectively ;  but  they  reflected  that,  if  it  came 
to  the  worst,  they  covild  always  do  with  less  food  and  clothes 
than  other  people,  and  that  air  and  space  were  the  first 
necessities  of  all.  Eila  for  one  declared  herself  vehemently 
in  favour  of  securing  the  rooms  without  delay,  and  the 
matter  being  put  to  the  vote,  only  Dick  was  fouad  to  enter 
an  objection  on  the  score  of  the  vulgarity  of  the  decorations. 
Now  the  pale  sky-blue  ceiling  with  the  lark,  and  the  gilt- 
edged  panels,  that  adorned  the  largest  room,  had  exercised  a 
powerful  fascination  upon  the  others.  That  the  rooms  had 
bQ^n  devised  to  attract  an  entirely  different  order  of  occu- 
pants from  themselves,  and  that  the  mirror  in  particular 
12 


172  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

had  been  designed  as  a  bait  for  some  petite  dame  with 
blackened  eyelashes,  was  a  matter  of  which  they  could  not 
well  be  expected  to  have  any  knowledge.  Mrs.  Clare  de- 
clared her  readiness  to  pay  the  first  quarter  in  advance,  and 
was  even  business-like  enough  to  give  the  concierge,  un- 
asked, the  "  gratification  "  he  was  looking  for,  in  return  for 
allowing  the  family  to  enter  into  possession  the  same  after- 
noon. She  shared  her  children's  enthusiasm  for  the  gilt 
panels,  the  lark  on  the  wing,  and  the  view,  and  pointed  out 
to  them  all  the  advantages  of  being  once  more  in  the  midst 
of  civilization.  London  had  grown  too  big,  she  declared. 
It  was  like  an  unwieldy  monster,  of  which  tlie  proportions 
were  all  swallowed  up  in  superfluous  flesh,  but  Paris  was 
the  embodiment  of  harmonious  perfection.  Dick  wished  to 
be  informed  of  the  area  and  population  of  Paris  as  compared 
with  London,  by  way  of  establishing  some  standard  of  judg- 
ment ;  but  Mrs.  Clare  evinced  her  accustomed  fine  disdain 
for  facts  and  statistics,  and  the  argument  between  mother 
and  son  was  carried  on  to  the  utter  forgetfulness  of  the 
business  in  hand.  Matters,  however,  did  arrange  themselves 
somehow  ultimately,  and  steps  were  taken  to  convert  the 
garish  apartment  into  the  semblance  of  a  home.  Well  naght 
the  family  feel,  in  contradiction  to  the  poet's  words,  that 
things  were  not  what  they  seemed.  The  novel  surroundings 
induced  in  all  alike  a  curious  and  dreary  sensation  of  dreami- 
ness and  unreality.  Never  could  Eila  forget  the  impressions 
of  that  first  night  spent  in  their  Paris  home.  Dick  had  been 
sent  to  the  Gare  du  Nord,  anned  with  the  mysterious  slip  of 
I)aper  that  was  to  release  tlie  things  of  which  the  family 
stood  most  in  need  from  the  depot.  Mamy  stayed  with  her 
mother  to  aid  in  receiving  and  arranging  them,  and  Eila, 
with  Truca  holding  her  hand,  went  out  provender-hunting 
in  the  neighbourhood.  She  purchased  some  bread,  a  mys- 
terious kind  of  meat-mosaic,  known  as  charcuterie,  and  a 
bottle  of  milk,  besides  the  few  indispensable  articles  that 
were  needed  in  the  shape  of  a  kettle,  one  or  two  kitchen 
utensils,  a  table,  and  some  chairs. 

How  the  small  hoard  of  money  melted  away  under  these 
successive  outlays  is  not  to  be  told.      Evening  found  the 


IN  PARIS.  1Y3 

travellers  still  engaged  in  the  process  of  camping  down  in 
their  rooms.  They  had  their  board-ship  mattresses  still — 
one  apiece — and  tlieir  pillows,  which  were  distributed  on  the 
floors  of  the  three  rooms. 

"  Like  the  Japanese,''  said  Eila  cheerfully.  "  After  all, 
climbing  into  bed  is  a  very  superfluous  thing." 

The  blankets  were  short.  It  was  never  discovered  who 
had  appropriated  the  two  best  between  the  London  docks 
and  the  Paris  railway-station ;  but,  fortunately,  the  July 
nights  were  warm,  when  a  little  covering  goes  a  long  way. 
The  rest  of  the  furniture  was  composed  mainly  of  trunks, 
that  bore  dreadful  evidence  of  rough  usage  in  Cape  Horn 
gales  and  railway  depots.  It  is  not  easy  to  furnish  a  home 
artistically  with  mattresses  and  trunks ;  still,  if  we  have  a 
roof  to  cover  us,  and  a  mattress  to  lie  dowm  upon,  we  are  better 
off  even  then  than  countless  myriads  of  our  fellow-creatures, 
and  of  this  fact  the  Clare  family  reminded  each  other  now. 

Their  first  meal,  however,  in  their  new  home  could  not 
honestly  be  called  entirely  satisfactory.  To  go  out  and  dine 
comfortably  at  a  modest  restaurant  was  a  commonplace, 
practical  idea  that  would  never  have  occurred  to  them. 
Restaurants  were  dangerous  places  when  you  had  no  pre- 
vious knowledge  of  them.  Mrs.  Clare  believed  that  they 
were  conducted  upon  the  fixed  principle  of  taking  people  in 
— not  in  the  good  sense  of  the  word.  Besides,  what  a  dread- 
ful waste  of  money  that  might  be  so  much  more  profitably 
spent,  and  that,  to  tell  the  trutli,  was  sorely  needed,  to  spend 
it  upon  mere  eating  and  drinking.  It  is  true  that  there  were 
difficulties  in  the  way  of  arranging  a  supper  for  five  people 
with  the  aid  of  a  small  spirit-lamp  and  a  new  kettle  for  all 
utensils.  For  instance,  the  boiling  of  the  eggs  in  the  kettle 
is  not  always  an  assured  success.  To  fish  out  the  egg  with  a 
small  spoon  is  to  run  the  risk  of  breaking  it,  which  is  fatal 
both  to  the  egg  and  the  water  of  which  the  tea  is  to  be  made. 
Yet  so  inured  had  the  family  from  Cowa  become  to  these 
minor  disasters,  that  when  a  catastrophe  of  the  kind  oc- 
curred, and  the  water  Dick  was  boiling  for  the  tea  was  con- 
verted into  a  kind  of  egg-soup,  it  excited  nothing  but  a  burst 
•  of  hysterical  hilarity  from  the  rest. 


174:  NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

"  It  won't  spoil  the  tea,"  Mrs.  Clare  remarked,  when  the 
laughter  had  subsided.  "Now  I  think  of  it,  peoi^le  some- 
times stir  an  egg  in  their  tea  instead  of  milk." 

"  But  not  a  half-cooked  one,  mother,"  remonstrated  Eila. 
"  They  don't  make  tea  with  thin  egg-soup,  either  ;  but,  I  sup- 
pose, no  one  cares  to  wait  until  the  kettle  boils  again ;  and 
what  are  we  to  do  for  egg-cups  ? " 

"  Use  bread,  of  course,"  said  Dick  scornfully. 

He  had  made  no  comment  upon  the  episode  of  the  egg. 

"  But  there's  no  salt,"  remarked  Truca  dolefully.  "  Eggs 
are  so  horrid  without  salt." 

There  was  an  uncomfortable  pause.  Every  member  of 
the  family  was  dead-beat.  The  four  fliglits  of  stairs  were 
very  steep,  and  by  the  time  the  salt  should  have  been  pro- 
cured from  the  grocer's  next  door,  what  would  be  the  condi- 
tion of  tlie  eggs  ?  Dick,  nevertheless,  i*ose  reluctantly,  when 
Mamy  quickly  interposed : 

"  No,  not  you,  Dick.  Why,  you  carried  all  the  mattresses 
up  yourself.     I'll  go." 

"  Your  hat,  Mamy  ! "  shrieked  Eila  after  her.  It  was 
hard  to  sacrifice  the  last  vestige  of  superiority  at  the  very 
outset  of  their  settling  in  Paris.  "And  buy  another  cup 
and  saucer — the  commonest  you  can  get ;  or  else  you'll  have 
to  share  a  tumbler  with  True  for  your  tea." 

Mamy  darted  off.  She  did  not  stay  to  look  for  her  hat, 
after  all,  and  more  heads  than  those  of  the  concierge  turned 
round  to  bestow  a  long  stare  upon  the  auburn  locks  as  she 
hurried  into  the  neighbouring  shop  and  asked  in  Ollendorff 
French  for  "  some  salt,  if  you  please,  and  one  cup  and  one 

"     "  Saucer,"  however,  had  not  been  provided  for  by 

Ollendorff,  and  Mamy  was  reduced  to  pointing  with  one 
finger  to  the  article  of  which  she  was  in  quest.  No  one 
would  have  denied  the  influence  of  heredity  who  had  wit- 
nessed the  family  meal  on  the  Paris  quatrieme  that  even- 
ing. If  Mrs.  Clare  had  not  possessed  an  ancestress  of  the 
niysterious  race  that  sends  us  wandering  fortune-tellers  and 
expounders  of  the  occult  doctrines  of  the  Mahatmas,  such  a 
group  would  never  have  been  possible.  It  was,  indeed,  sug- 
gestive of  nothing  but  a  band  of  gipsies  gathered  round  the 


IN  PARIS.  175 

pot,  caldron,  kettle,  or  camp  oven,  that  from  time  immemo- 
rial has  served  as  the  badge  and  rally  in  g-point  of  their  or- 
der. Truca  crouched  next  to  her  elder  sister  upon  the  Chev- 
alier's packing-case.  Dick  sprawled  upon  his  stomach  on 
the  floor,  his  bread-and-butter  spread  out  upon  a  piece  of 
newspaper  in  front  of  him,  while  he  peeled  his  hard-boiled 
egg  with  his  fingers.  Mamy  was  comfortably  seated  like  a 
Turk  on  a  mattress  she  shared  with  her  mother,  holding  a 
tumbler  of  beery-looking  tea  in  one  hand,  and  a  hunk  of 
elastic  Paris  bread  in  the  other.  All  the  family  were  in 
high  spirits.  Mamy  was  inimitable  in  her  rendering  of  the 
man  concierge ;  she  had  caught  the  exact  nasal  accent  in 
which  he  uttered  his  defiant  "  Quoi ! "  She  also  showed 
how  the  portly  woman  concierge  had  come  out  of  her  den 
and  stood  looking  after  her  as  she  flew  up  the  stairs  with  the 
salt  and  the  teacup.  Eggy  water  had  been  tolerated  for  the 
tea-making,  but  a  fresh  supply  was  prepared  for  washing  up. 
The  ti'ouble  was  to  find  a  cloth  suitable  for  wiping-up  pur- 
poses. The  bundles  that  were  opened  in  the  search,  and  the 
contents  of  trunks  that  were  scattered  over  the  floor  thereby, 
would  have  stocked  a  rag  and  bone  shop.  The  collection  of 
birds'  eggs  that  had  been  presented  to  Mamy  by  one  of  her 
juvenile  admirers  was  tossed  out  among  other  things.  The 
eggs  rolled  in  all  directions  on  the  smooth  floor,  and  a  spir- 
ited hunt  on  all  fours  ensued.  Finally,  Dick  conceived  the 
brilliant  idea  of  prizing  open  the  Chevalier's  packing-case, 
and  extracting  some  strips  of  the  penitentiary  calico.  But 
this  necessitated  a  hunt  for  tools,  and  a  long  and  reverent 
examination  of  the  family  totem.  Though  the  July  even- 
ings are  long  in  Paris,  the  stars  were  shining  where  the  last 
red  streak  had  faded  from  the  sky  behind  the  Luxembourg 
trees  ere  the  cups  were  washed  and  the  shake-down  prepared 
for  the  night.  Only  a  board-ship  swing  candlestick  and 
candle  were  available  for  purposes  of  illumination,  which, 
as  they  could  not  be  stuck  upon  end,  were  confided  to  Truca 
as  torchbearer.  But  the  light  was  wanted  in  half  a  dozen 
different  places  at  once,  and  Truca  grew  tired  of  skipi^ing 
round  with  it  at  every  fresh  call. 

Finally  the  mattresses    received    their  separate  loads. 


176  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

Dick'  established  his  lair  in  the  back-room,  placing  the 
table  end  upwards  on  its  hind-legs  before  the  window,  to 
shut  out  the  horror  of  the  well  it  looked  upon.  Mamy  and 
her  mother  installed  themselves  in  state  in  the  gilt-panelle(f 
centre-room,  which  they  pompously  christened  the  recep- 
tion-room. Truca  shared  Eila's  shake-down  in  the  adjoin- 
ing chamber,  Eila's  pi'ospective  bedroom.  The  child  lay  so 
still  under  the  sheltering  protection  of  the  warm  arm  that 
encircled  her,  that  it  was  only  when  a  long-drawn  sponta- 
neous sigh  broke  the  stillness  that  her  sister  discovered  she 
was  still  awake. 

"  What  is  the  matter,  darling  ?    Why  don't  you  sleep  ?  " 

"  I  was  listening  to  that  big  bell  sounding  two  o'clock  in 
French.  Eila,"  with  a  wistful  intonation,  "what  do  you 
think  we  are  going  to  do  all  day  here  ? " 

"  Do  ?    In  what  way  do  you  mean,  dearie  ? " 

"  Why,  like  we  did  at  Cowa.  I  spent  so  much  time  with 
Daisy,  you  know.  Then  there  used  to  be  such  a  lot  to  do 
among  the  fowls,  there  was  hardly  time  for  lessons — don't 
you  remember  ?  I  used  to  forget  that  the  minutes  were 
going  on  always — always.  If  one  begins  to  think  of  that,  it 
gets  so  monotonous.  It  does  frighten  me  so  sometimes  to 
think  how  God  can  ever  manage  to  put  a  stop  to  the  min- 
utes going  on.    Even  He  can't  help  it— can  He  ? " 

"  Don't  think  about  it,  dear — think  we  are  all  together, 
whatever  happens.  It  is  only  because  you  don't  understand 
it  here  that  it  seems  so  dreadful  to  you  ;  it  is  as  though  you 
tried  to  make  Daisy  understand  what  to-morrow  means. 
And  we'll  find  plenty  to  do  in  Paris,  never  fear !  First  we 
must  all  learn  to  speak  French  properly.  You  and  I  to- 
gether— won't  it  be  fun  ?  Then  we'll  take  splendid  long 
walks  ;  and  when  we  get  settled,  you'll  see  what  good  times 
we'll  have.  We'll  begin  to  fix  things  up  properly  to- 
morrow." 

"And  do  you  think  we  might  go  back  to  Cowa  some 
day  ?  It  didn't  matter  if  we  didn't  know  French  so  well 
there." 

"  Of  course — why  not  ?  Only  we  must  all  try  to  make  a 
little  money,  and  choose  a  nicer  ship  than  the  Queen  of  the 


IN  PARIS.  177 

South — some  great  h\g  steamer  that  would  paddle  smoothly 
and  quickly  all  the  way  out,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  that  would  be  nice ;  and  I  would  wi'ite  to  Mr. 
Acton  to  bring  Daisy  down  to  the  whai-f  to  meet  us,"  mur- 
mured Truca,  in  convinced  and  sleepy  reassurance. 

The  little  girl  slept ;  but  her  sister  lay  awake  until  the 
stars  faded  from  the  west,  and  a  reflection  of  dawn  in  the 
opposite  sky  peered  coldly  through  the  windows  of  the 
quatrieme.  For  all  they  called  her  the  optimist,  the  moder- 
ator, and  the  rose-coloured  spectacles,  her  heart  was  heavy 
within  her.  The  misgivings  she  had  soothed  away  from 
Truca's  childish  breast  had  not  been  lifted  from  her  own. 
It  seemed  to  her  that  the  family  had  embarked  upon  un- 
known seas,  without  chart  or  compass  to  guide  them.  There 
was  Dick,  with  his  enthusiastic  artist-nature,  his  utter  ig- 
norance of  the  world  and  its  temptations,  and  his  over- 
weening and  blind  self-conceit,  the  result  of  having  lived 
among  isolated  women-folk  from  his  boyhood  upwards. 
What  pitfalls  might  he  not  stumble  into  unwittingly ! 
Mamy,  too,  with  her  vagrant  fancy  and  her  unsuspecting 
innocence-^who  would  mount  guard  over  her  here  ?  They 
were  utterly  friendless,  though  their  mother  believed  they 
had  come  to  carry  the  world  before  them.  There  was  not  a 
human  being  in  all  this  million-thronged  city  to  take  them 
by  the  hand,  and  declare  them  to  be  worthy  of  the  trust  of 
their  fellow-men.  As  far  as  Eila  could  judge  from  the  little 
glimpse  she  had  obtained  that  day  of  the  marvellous  city 
of  her  dreams,  she  could  fully  share  in  Truca's  vaguely-ex- 
pressed appreliensions  of  the  difficulty  of  making  a  home  in 
it.  It  appeared  to  her  that  people  lived  here  in  public.  Had 
she  not  seen  them,  to  her  great  astonishment,  eating  and 
drinking  at  tables  on  the  pavement  ?  Then  the  perch  the 
family  had  found,  with  people  located  above  and  below 
them,  separated  from  them  by  the  mere  thickness  of  a 
plank,  how  could  such  an  abode  be  called  a  home  compared 
with  the  acres  of  solitude  and  freedom  that  encircled  their 
real  home  at  Cowa  ? 

A  confused  vision  of  the  Boulevard  St.  Michel,  sloping 
widely  upwards  towards  the  Observatoire  between  a  hedge 


178  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

of  green  trees  and  towering  houses,  mingled  itself  with  the 
memories  that  approaching  sleep  was  fast  effacing  from  her 
brain.  She  had  a  dream  in  which  she  saw  the  family  wan- 
dering hatless,  with  swags  on  their  backs,  looking  for  a 
camping-place  under  the  trees,  and  being  driven  off  by  long- 
waisted  gendarmes.  And  when  they  would  have  made  their 
escape,  she  dreamed  that  they  were  held  fast  by  the  nails  in 
the  Clievalier's  packing-case.  There  was  no  means  of  re- 
lease, except  by  hammering  on  the  case  and  its  contents ; 
and,  as  it  fell  to  pieces  at  her  feet,  behold  the  fragments  were 
eggshells ! 


CHAPTER  XL 

eila's  notion. 

It  is  doubtless  true,  as  moralists  tell  us,  that  we  are  wrong 
to  lay  upon  the  impalpable  shoulders  of  Destiny  the  responsi- 
bility of  the  misfortunes  that  attend  our  course.  Such  mis- 
fortunes, they  assure  us,  are  almost  always  the  result  of  our 
own  actions.  To  be  sure,  we  might  retort  that  our  actions 
are  dictated  by  our  natures  and  temperaments,  and  might 
point  out  that  the  problem  of  how  far  we  control  these,  or 
are  controlled  by  them  in  our  turn,  is  of  a  kind  to  which  no 
Q.  E.  D.  has  so  far  been  attached.  But  this  would  only  in- 
volve us  in  the  toils  of  the  everlasting  discussion  which, 
under  its  theological  title  of  Free  Will  versus  Predestination, 
or  its  scientific  title  of  Moral  Responsibility  versus  Heredity, 
has  divided  humanity  into  two  camps  from  time  immemorial. 
Enough  that  there  is  perhaps  something  to  be  said  in  behalf 
of  those  who  complain  of  the  destiny  that  presided  at  their 
creation  or  evolution  in  the  same  way  that  there  is  a  plea  to 
be  made  for  the  clay  that  complained  to  the  potter,  "  Why 
hast  thou  made  me  thus  ? "  There  is  a  gloomy  prophecy 
that  it  is  perhaps  better  not  to  think  of  in  this  connection 
(for  it  seems  to  foreshadow  all  the  sinister  discoveries  made 
by  the  science  of  statistics),  to  the  effect  that  it  must  needs 


EILA'S  NOTION.  179 

be  that  offences  come,  though  woe  be  unto  him  by  whom 
the  offence  cometh.  Now,  to  ensure  the  coming  of  the 
offences,  it  must  "needs  be"  that  a  certain  percentage  of 
moral  failures  should  be  born  into  the  world  to  accomplish 
them,  or  what  would  become  of  the  prophecy  ?  Perhaps 
only  severe  sectarians  would  include  young  Mrs.  Frost  and 
her  brothers  and  sisters  among  the  moral  failures ;  but,  with- 
out going  so  far  as  the  sectarians,  it  must  be  admitted  that 
the  Clare  family  might  have  been  excused  for  asking,  like 
the  potter's  clay,  why  they  had  been  made  thus.  Even  from 
the  little  we  have  seen  of  them,  we  must  conclude  that  by 
birth,  by  inheritance,  and  by  bringing  up,  they  are  only 
fitted,  when  brought  into  contact  with  the  world,  to  play  the 
part  of  the  earthenware  vessel  against  the  vessel  of  iron. 
We  know  which  of  the  two  came  to  grief  in  their  passage 
down  the  stream.  Eila  was,  perhaps,  the  only  member  of 
the  family  who  was  occasionally  troubled  by  a  dim  forebod- 
ing that  she  and  her  belongings  had  been  sent  into  the  world 
without  the  proper  equipment  of  offensive  and  defensive 
weapons,  as  necessary  to  human  beings  as  to  animals,  if  they 
are  not  to  be  trampled  under  foot  in  the  battle  of  life.  In 
the  beginning  of  knowledge,  especially  of  self-knowledge, 
there  is  wisdom ;  but  Eila's,  so  far,  was  only  a  faint  and 
dawning  perception  of  the  truth.  Her  mistrust  of  herself 
and  her  kin  did  not  teach  her  how  to  avert  the  consequences 
of  past  errors.  It  only  inclined  her  to  silence  when  her 
mother  was  prophesying  a  brilliant  future  for  the  family. 
Mrs.  Clare's  conviction  on  this  point  was  indeed  so  deeply 
rooted  and  immovable  that  it  almost  attained  the  elevation 
of  a  religious  faith,  founded,  not  on  external  evidences,  but 
on  pure  inward  assurance.  She  was  entirely  confident  that 
her  children,  one  and  all,  would  shine  some  day  as  stars  of 
the  fh*st  magnitude.  How  and  when  this  happy  consumma- 
tion was  to  be  brought  about — how  Dick  was  to  obtain  the 
Grand  Prix  de  Rome,  and  Mamy  to  marry  a  title — she  did 
not  stop  to  inquire.  When  the  spirit  of  prophecy  was  upon 
her,  she  would  declare  that  these  and  similar  good  things 
were  in  store  for  them :  and  Mamy  and  Truca,  and  even 
Dick,  though  they  affected  to  laugh  at  their  mother's  predic- 


180  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

tions,  were  inclined  to  think  secretly  that  there  might  be 
something  in  them,  after  all. 

Meanwhile,  the  difficulty  of  making  both  ends  meet  was 
becoming  more  and  more  e\'ident.  Far  from  meeting,  in- 
deed, they  seemed  to  stretch  daily  farther  apart,  until  Eila, 
who  acted  as  treasurer,  saw  with  dismay  that  the  family  ex- 
chequer would  be  well-nigh  empty  some  v/eeks  before  the 
next  slender  instalment  of  her  mother's  inadequate  income 
should  come  due. 

What  now  was  to  be  done  ?  Certainly  neither  mother 
nor  children  could  be  accused  of  undue  extravagance — at 
least,  as  regarded  their  mode  of  living.  If  only  to  maintain  * 
their  standing  in  the  eyes  of  the  concierge  couple,  who  had 
both  remarked  at  different  times  Avith  threatening  suavity, 
"  Faut  faire  entrer  vos  meubles — quoi !  "  it  had  been  found 
necessary  to  purchase  some  bedsteads,  a  second-hand  table, 
and  some  chairs.  The  table  and  chairs  were  placed  in  the 
tiny  entrance-hall  to  the  recej)tion-room,  which  was  made  to 
serve  as  a  dining-room.  The  splendour  of  the  reception- 
room  itself  was  such  that  no  one  would  have  ventured  to 
suggest  eating  in  it.  Certainly  it  was,  in  familiar  parlance, 
bare  as  your  hand  ;  but  so,  for  the  matter  of  that,  were  the 
other  rooms,  and  Eila,  who  had  developed  a  great  notion  of 
order  with  the  decline  of  the  family  fortunes,  tried  to  im- 
part an  api^earance  of  comfort  and  respectability  to  them  by 
keeping  them  scrupulously  clean.  She  had  invested  at  sec- 
ond-hand in  a  whole  waxing  apparatus — a  reckless  piece  of 
extravagance  that  she  bitterly  regretted  when  funds  were 
lower — and  between  five  and  six  on  summer  mornings 
might  be  seen,  clad  in  the  same  airy  attire  as  that  in  which 
she  had  roved  about  the  garden  at  Cowa,  sliding  across  the 
reception-room  with  a  heavy  brush  strapped  to  her  bare 
white  foot,  swaying  backwards  and  forwards,  as  she  rubbed 
it  across  the  newly  waxed  floor,  in  imitation  of  the  con- 
cierge, whom  she  had  seen  carrying  on  a  similar  operation 
on  the  landing  outside.  It  was  her  glory  to  maintain  the 
floor  in  a  condition  that  rendered  it  dangerous  to  walk 
across  it.  The  active  exercise  was  a  temporary  relief,  though 
all  the  time  she  was  brushing  her  mind  was  engaged  in  pro- 


EILA'S  NOTION.  181 

jecting  imaginary  furniture  into  the  apartment — an  otto- 
man here  ;  a  Turkey  carpet  there  ;  a  cabinet  just  under  the 
Chevalier's  picture,  the  only  adornment  the  room  possessed. 
Youth  attaches  little  value  to  its  lease  of  existence.     It  is  not 
too  much  to  say  that  Eila  would  have  given  a  year  of  her 
life  at  these  times  for  each  article  of  imaginary  furniture 
she  could  have  caused  to  be  materialized  as  she  thought  of  it. 
It  was  not  long,  however,  before  the  desire  for  mere  fur- 
niture gave  way  to  a  more  imperative  need.     Eila  perceived 
that  at  their  jDresent  rate  of  living  the  family  would  soon  be 
without  the  means  to  purchase  even  the  bai*e  necessaries  of 
life.      Those    were    terrible    moments    during    which    she 
whisked  about  in  the  early  morning,  as  light  of  foot  as  she 
was  heavy  of  heart,  wondering  how  she  should  conjure  the 
hideous  spectre  of  want  that  threatened  to  stalk  into  the  gar- 
ish   apartment    uninvited.      The    reception-room,   with  its 
empty  parade  of  blue  ceiling,  gilt-bordered  panels  and  long 
mirror,  seemed  to  mock  her  misery.     It  was  as  though  she 
had  been  condemned  to  starve  in  an  opera-box.     And  what 
could  she  do  ?    Where  turn  for  help  ?    She  could  not  bring 
herself  to  warn  the  others  of  the  impending  horror  that 
came  nearer  daily  until  she  had  tried  every  possible  m.eans 
of  averting  it.    As  for  Hubert  de  Me»le,  she  had  come  to 
think  of  him  now  as  a  myth.     After  bringing  the  family  all 
across  the  world  for'  the  ostensible  purpose  of  finding  him, 
her  mother  seemed  to  have  lost  interest  in  the  search.     One 
or  two  spasmodic  efforts  had  been  made  which  had  resulted 
in  utter  failure.     The  address  Mrs.  Clare  possessed  in  the 
Colonies  had  proved  useless.     The  very  street  indicated  had 
ceased  to  exist,  and  no  one  in  the  newly-built  quarter  had 
ever  heard  of  the  name  of  Hubert  de  Merle.    The  object  of 
their  search  failing  them,  what  was  Eila  to  do  ?    She  could 
not  put  the  family  upon  half  rations.      Their  fare  even  now 
was  so  poor  and  meagre  that  it  wrung  her  heart  to  set  them 
down  to  it.     She  wished  they  would  have  grumbled  at  it  or 
at  her.    After  the  bounteous  regime  of  apple-pudding  and 
Cowa  cream  to  which  they  had  been  accustomed,  they  could 
not  but  feel   the  actual  privations  sorely ;   yet  they  never 
complained.      There   seemed   to   be   a  tacit  understanding 


182  NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

among  them  tliat  there  was  nothing'  to  be  clone.  Eila  tried 
what  the  severest  self-privations  coukl  accomplish.  She  had 
already  foresworn  butter  and  sugar  for  herself,  upon  the 
shallow  pretext  that  she  found  them  too  fattening  ;  but  she 
could  not  find  it  in  her  heart  to  condemn  the  others  to  dry- 
bread,  when  bread-and-butter  formed  their  principal  suste- 
nance. A  larger  proportion  of  chicory  and  less  milk  found 
their  way  into  the  morning  coffee.  The  allowance  of  broth 
or  meat  which  came  from  the  rotisserie  at  one  o'clock,  and 
which  would  have  been  ample  for  three,  was  barely  enough 
for  five;  and  when  she  ventured  upon  the  experiment  of 
leading  the  whole  party  to  a  Bouillon  Duval  for  a  Sunday 
square  meal,  five  francs  melted  away  before  they  had  hon- 
estly satisfied  tlieir  hunger,  and  it  was  additional  suffering 
to  note  the  involuntary  looks  of  longing  they  directed 
towards  the  pastrycook's  window  on  their  way  home.  And 
all  the  time  she  felt  as  regarded  their  presence  in  Paris  that 
the  question,  "  What  went  ye  out  for  to  see  ? "  was  the  one 
that  might  most  fittingly  have  been  asked  them.  What  had 
they  gained,  indeed,  excepting  hunger,  humiliation,  and  the 
Tantalus  delight  of  being  surrounded  by  beautiful  sights  and 
objects  that  they  had  neither  the  means  nor  the  spirits  to 
enjoy  ?  Dick,  it  was  true,  would  take  out  his  charcoal  and 
sketching-block,  as  long  as  the  paper  held  out ;  and  it  was 
an  understood  thing  that  he  should  attend  a  studio  when 
funds  should  be  forthcoming.  But  meantime  Eila  felt  that 
the  aimless  life  he  was  leading  was  bad  for  him  in  every 
sense.  When  he  had  carried  down  the  bac  (Tordure  in  the 
morning,  and  had  set  it  on  the  pavement  outside  to  await 
the  advent  of  the  scavenger's  cart ;  when  he  had  cleaned  the 
boots,  while  the  blacking  lasted,  and  filled  and  emptied  the 
family  bath,  w^hich  had  been  hired  at  five  francs  a  month  in 
the  first  burst  of  their  triumph,  Dick's  household  duties 
were  at  an  end.  His  time  was  then  his  own,  and  he  would 
ransack  the  case  of  books,  and  toss  the  contents  on  the  floor, 
in  search  of  a  Shelley  or  a  Shakespeare,  which  he  would  read 
desultorily  for  an  hour;  or  saunter  to  the  Luxembourg 
Gallery,  or  walk  to  the  other  side  of  the  river  along 
the   Grands   Boulevards ;    or  hold   forth   upon   Buddhism, 


EILA'S  NOTION.  Ig3 

Socialism,  or  Nihilism,  as  the  case  might  be.  He  was  the 
only  one  who  thoug-ht  it  worth  while  to  lay  out  a  sou  upon 
a  Petit  Journal,  as  long  as  the  sou  was  procurable,  and  who 
would  read  it  conscientiously  from  beginning  to  end  in 
order  to  obtain  an  insight  into  French  politics.  He  found 
out  where  the  Communists  held  their  meetings  at  Mont- 
niartre,  and  would  come  back  from  a  gathering  in  the  Salle 
Levis  glowing  with  sympathy  for  Louise  Michel.  It  was 
always  entertaining  to  hear  Dick  talk  when  he  was  in  the 
vein.  He  was  almost  as  good  a  mimic  as  Mamy,  and  kept 
the  family  amused  a  whole  evening  by  his  rendering  of  the 
gestures  and  declamatory  air  of  a  fat  and  comfortable-look- 
ing Communist  orator  w^ho  had  demonstrated  the  absurdity 
of  the  poi)ular  belief  in  a  God. 

"  What  kind  of  a  god  would  he  be,"  the  Communist  had 
asked  derisively,  "  who  would  direct  the  world  so  clumsily 
as  at  present  ?  Why,  I  who  speak  to  you  would  make  a 
more  intelligent  god.  In  tlie  first  place,  under  my  man- 
agement humanity  should  always  be  young;  the  women 
should  never  be  older  than  eighteen,  the  men  than  twenty- 
four." 

But  Eila  had  a  notion.  It  came  into  her  head  one  morn- 
ing as  she  was  waxing  the  expanse  of  floor  in  front  of  the 
long  gilt-framed  mirror  between  the  windows.  The  recep- 
tion-room was  still  in  its  primitive  condition  of  glittering 
barrenness,  save  for  the  presence  of  two  battered  trunks 
that  served  as  family  wardrobes.  Young  Mrs.  Frost  sighed 
as  she  looked  over  its  polished,  carpetless  space.  Perhaps 
she  was  reflecting  that  the  manner  in  which  she  expended 
her  time  and  energy  over  this  same  bare  refuge,  upon  the 
unlikely  hypothesis  that  it  would  be  converted  some  day 
into  a  habitable  home,  was  typical  of  the  conduct  of  the 
family  in  coming  to  Paris  at  all.  Had  they  not  also  for- 
feited the  substance  to  run  after  the  shadow  ?  Allured  by 
the  glittering  attraction  of  a  jewel  that  existed  perhaps  only 
in  their  mother's  imagination,  had  they  not  abandoned 
home  and  comfort,  and  the  manifold  blessings  of  a  secure 
position  ? 

"  We  may  soon  find  ourselves  literally  without  bread  to 


184 


NOT   COUNTING  THE  COST. 


eat,"  she  tliouglit  bitterly;  "and  meanwhile  here  I  am 
spending  my  time  in  polishing  these  bare  boards,  and  the 
only  end  we  seem  to  have  served  in  coming  to  Paris  is  to 
keep  this  wretched  apartment  new  and  shiny  for  the  people 
who  will  occupy  it  when  we  are  tmnied  out." 

She  threw  down  her  waxing-brush,  and  sighed  heavily 
once  more;  but,  perceiving  a  blur  upon  the  gilt-bordered 
mirror,  instinctively  took  up  the  Petit  Journal,  upon  which 
she  had  laid  her  triangular  piece  of  wax,  to  rub  it  off, 
Eveiy  housewife  knows  that  there  is  nothing  better  than  a 
newspaper  for  polishing  glass.  As  she  did  so  the  words 
"  Prix  de  Beaute,"  printed  in  large  capitals  on  the  page, 
caught  her  eye;  and,  in  obedience  to  an  impulse  of  idle 
curiosity,  she  proceeded  to  read  the  paragraph  beneath 
them.  An  amused  and  half-incredulous  smile  flitted  across 
her  face  as  she  read.  The  paragraph  set  forth  with  elabo- 
rate detail  that  the  director  of  an  establishment  called  the 
Folies-Fantassin  (which  Eila  did  not  know  to  be  a  kind  of 
music-hall  or  cafe  concert)  made  a  bond-fide  offer  of  five 
thousand  francs  to  the  most  beautiful  woman  who  should 
compete  for  a  prize  of  beauty  upon  a  certain  evening  on  a 
certain  date  before  a  jury  of  connoisseurs  at  the  aforesaid 
Folies-Fantassin. 

"  It  can't  be  true,"  she  thought ;  but  she  read  the  an- 
nouncement again,  nevertheless,  and  upon  a  second  reading 
was  more  than  half  inclined  to  believe  it.  Certainly  one 
must  come  to  Eui'ope  to  hear  of  such  things  as  these.  How 
could  it  be  worth  anybody's  while  to  give  five  thousand 
francs — a  whole  two  hundred  pounds- — to  a  person  for  being 
merely  pretty  ?  What  could  the  director  hope  to  gain  when 
he  had  paid  the  money  ?  To  be  sure,  the  exhibition  in  itself 
might  attract  people,  though  even  upon  that  point  Eila 
could  not  help  having  her  doubts.  Possibly  the  director 
was  himself  a  very  rich  man,  with  a  mania  for  seeing  a 
variety  of  pretty  faces — she  had  heard  of  such  people — and 
perhaj)s  this  was  his  way  of  gratifying  his  mania.  Still, 
was  it  not  extraordinary  that  in  our  sober  nineteenth  cen- 
tury men  should  amuse  themselves  by  aping  the  pastimes 
of  the  gods  of  mythology  ?    Though,  for  the  matter  of  that, 


EILA'S  NOTION.  185 

the  gods  were  more  reasonable,  since  the  prize  that  Paris 
offered  was  nothing  more  than  an  apple,  between  wliich 
and  five  thousand  francs  there  was  certainly  a  considerable 
difference.  She  wondered  what  kind  of  beautiful  women 
would  contend  for  the  prize.  To  compete  for  it  at  all  would 
be  a  tacit  avowal  that  one  was  very  vain ;  but  naturally 
only  completely  beautiful  creatures  would  think  of  com- 
peting. Would  they  be  divinely  tall  and  most  divinely 
fair  ?  or,  failing  this,  might  passably  good-looking  young 
women  still  have  a  show  ?  Eila  raised  her  eyes  as  this  re- 
flection occui'red  to  her,  and  they  fell  directly  with  unpre- 
meditation  vipon  her  own  image  in  the  glass.  Quick  as 
thought  the  idea  flashed  across  her  mind : 

"  Supposing  I  were  to  try  for  the  prize  ? " 

But  almost  as  quickly  it  was  discarded  with  an  accompa- 
nying warm  flush  of  shame.  Low  as  the  family  had  fallen, 
they  had  not  fallen  so  low  as  that.  The  next  step  Avould  bo 
to  stand  at  the  door  of  a  booth  in  tights  and  spangles,  or  to 
walk  in  a  procession  singing  dolorous  songs  through  the 
streets.  What  would  Reginald  say  when  she  told  him  of 
her  thought  ?  But  she  would  not  tell  him  of  it.  He  would 
be  too  gi'ievously  hurt.  Mechanically  Eila  took  up  her  wax- 
ing-brush  again,  but  before  a  few  more  minutes  had  passed 
at  her  work,  the  idea  she  had  discarded  rushed  back  with 
new  and  overwhelming  force.  An  idea  once  admitted  has 
all  the  efficacy  of  the  proverbial  thin  end  of  the  wedge.  Be- 
fore the  day  was  over,  the  notion  of  exhibiting  lierself  at  the 
Folies-Fantassin  did  not  seem  nearly  so  awful  as  at  first. 
Her  mother,  who  had  been  indisposed  for  some  days,  and 
whose  spirits  had  descended  proportionately,  was  seized  with 
a  kind  of  faint  in  the  afternoon.  In  the  wild  panic  that  en- 
sued, a  doctor,  recommended  by  the  two  concierges,  who 
showed  themselves  more  cvirious  than  sympathizing  upon 
the  occasion,  was  sent  for.  He  was  a  very  young  man,  with 
the  exaggerated  dignity  of  youth ;  but  he  unbent  in  pres- 
ence of  the  anguish  of  this  strange-looking  family,  whose 
members  reminded  him  vaguely,  of  a  group  of  sculptured 
castaways.  He  wrote  prescriptions  for  the  patient,  whom 
he  declared  to  be  attacked  by  a  kind  of  "  grippe,"  a  name 


186  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

that  had  the  effect  of  immeasurably  increasing'  the  terror  of 
the  others;  and,  with  unconscious  irony,  insisted  that,  so 
soon  as  the  fever  had  left  her,  she  should  be  given  "  surtout 
des  choses  nourissantes,"  and  lie  emphasized  the  7icurissantes 
in  a  manner  that  recalled  visions  of  Sunday  sirloins  and 
bowls  of  Cowa  cream  to  the  family,  and  that  increased  a 
thousandfold  the  remorseful  misery  that  possessed  our  hero- 
ine's soul. 

How  cruel  and  heedless  she  had  been !  How  could  she 
ever  forgive  herself  ?  She  had  allowed  her  mother  to  share 
in  all  the  wants  and  privations  to  which  they  had  been  of 
necessity  subjected,  and  the  awful  consequences  lay  at  her 
door  alone.  She  had  foreseen  that  the  money  could  not  hold 
out  in  any  case,  but  had  thought  that,  by  reckless  parsimony, 
it  might  yet  be  possible  to  avoid  making  debts  they  could 
never  hojie  to  pay.  She  had  been  most  awfully  penny  wise 
and  jiound  foolish.  Nay,  if  it  had  been  only  a  matter  of 
l)ounds,  it  would  not  have  mattered,  though,  like  Marjory 
Daw,  she  had  had  to  sell  her  bed  and  lie  upon  straw  ;  but  it 
was  a  matter  of  health,  of  life  itself,  perhaps,  to  the  one  being 
for  whom  she  and  her  brothers  and  sisters  would  have  laid 
down  their  young  lives  unflinchingly.  Mrs.  Clare's  chil- 
dren, indeed,  could  criticise  their  mother's  conduct  freely, 
they  could  dispute  her  views,  they  could  feel  she  had  ruined 
their  prospects;  but  continue  to  live  without  her  in  this 
world  they  could  not.  The  very  expression  of  the  doctor 
as  he  felt  her  pulse  had  made  them  sick  with  terror.  More- 
over, without  any  intention  on  her  part,  Mrs.  Clare  unwit- 
tingly intensified  their  alarm  by  her  manner  of  behaving 
under  the  affliction.  She  had  one  of  those  instinctively 
dramatic  natures  whose  very  identity  seems  to  disappear  in 
illness,  by  reason  of  the  tragic  aspect  their  owners  uncon- 
sciously assume.  The  moods  of  most  of  us  are  subject  to 
the  vacillations  that  we  call  familiarly  "ups  and  downs," 
but  Mrs.  Clare's  "  ups  "  went  to  impossible  heights,  and  her 
"downs"  descended  to  unfathomable  depths.  When  her 
children  saw  her  extended  on  her  bed,  with  the  dark  flush 
of  fever  on  her  cheeks,  and  a  wild,  half-resentful  light  in 
her  eyes,  they  were  paralyzed  with  fear.    All  but  Eila  seemed 


EILA'S  NOTION.  18Y 

to  lose  their  heads  completely,  and  even  to  her  the  vision 
of  the  octagonal  bottle  recurred  more  than  once  with  a 
deadly  and  horrible  fascination.  She  thought  of  it  that 
night  as  she  sat  by  her  mother's  pillow,  after  sending  the 
others  to  bed,  and  listened  despairingly  to  her  incoherent 
mutterings  and  fevered  breathings. 

"You  must  make  the  Chevalier  carry  his  sword  un- 
sheathed when  he  takes  you  to  dine  at  the  Elysee,"  Mrs. 
Clare  said.  "  Mind  he  doesn't  forget  the  sword  ;  and  ask 
the  President  from  me  why  they  don't  have  an  alabaster 
crematorium  built.  How  does  he  suppose  our  spiritual  es- 
sences are  going  to  be  liberated,  if  he  shuts  us  up  in  coffins  ? 
Tell  him  it  wouldn't  cost  any  more ;  and  we're  going  to  be 
rich — rich." 

Eila  pressed  her  palms  against  her  temples  distractedly, 
as  she  heard  her  mother's  ravings.  The  old  sensations  of 
anguish  and  terror  that  she  had  experienced  a  few  years 
back  seemed  to  leap  up  in  her  again.  She  had  thought  them 
dead  and  forgotten,  and  here  they  were  assailing  her  with 
new  vigour.  It  was  as  though  a  nerve  that  had  been  seared 
by  a  red-hot  iron  had  awakened  unexpectedly  to  life.  Yet 
it  was  incumbent  upon  her  at  all  costs  to  maintain  her  out- 
ward calm.  She  felt  that  if  she  were  to  give  way  now,  it 
would  indeed  be  the  end  of  all  things  for  the  family.  Her 
sister,  for  one,  was  not  to  be  depended  upon.  There  are  na- 
tures that  glow  like  molten  metal  in  the  furnace  of  affliction  ; 
others,  less  strong,  cannot  hold  together  under  the  fiery 
ordeal.  Trouble  and  terror  seemed  to  have  demoralized 
Mamy.  She  could  not  look  beyond  the  present,  or  act  upon 
the  advice  of  the  Sunday-school  refrain  she  had  so  often 
chanted  over  the  Cowa  hills,  to  wait  till  the  clouds  rolled 
by.  Age  is  apt  to  wonder  that  youth  should  allow  itself  to 
be  so  completely  cast  down  by  the  troubles  that  beset  it. 
"  As  if,"  says  Age,  "  youth  were  not  compensation  enough 
in  itself,  since  in  youth  all  things  are  possible,  even  to  the 
striking  of  new  roots  into  new  soils,  and  the  sowing  of  a  fresh 
harvest  of  loves,  of  joys,  and  of  heart-interests,  in  the  place 
of  those  we  have  lost.  But  this  is  the  argument  of  mature 
years  ;  for  youth  does  not  foresee  the  inevitable  appeasement 
IP. 


188  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

that  Time  will  bring,  nor  comprehend  that  his  scythe  has  a 
blunt  as  well  as  a  keen  edge,  and  has  as  much  power  to  heal 
as  to  wound.  Moreover,  in  youth  our  feelings  are  all  at 
their  keenest.  We  extract  from  joy  and  grief  alike  the  very 
fullest  flavour  they  can  yield  us  ;  and  though  in  later  years 
we  know  that  the  separation  and  bereavements  which  befall 
us  are  absolute  and  final,  we  yet  take  them  more  calmly 
than  of  yore,  for  the  reason  that  we  have  lost  the  faculty  of 
feeling  the  intense  and  heart- wringing  anguish  that  moved 
us  before.  Perhaps  the  knowledge  that  it  will  all  be  the 
same,  not  a  hundred  years  hence,  as  we  are  told  in  youth, 
but  in  a  very  few  years,  and  that  these  years  will  rush  like 
all  things  on  their  downward  course,  with  an  added  mo- 
mentum to  the  end,  may  helj)  to  render  us  philosophical,  not 
to  say  stolid.  Or  perhaps  it  is  only  that  our  feelings,  like 
rubber  bands  that  have  been  long  in  use,  have  lost  their 
early  power  of  tension.  Whatever  may  be  the  cause,  grief, 
as  a  rule  (for  to  every  rule  there  are  exceptions),  is  intenser 
in  early  than  in  advanced  years,  and  this  in  spite  of  the  extra 
elasticity  of  youth.  Even  to  enjoin  it  to  look  ahead  is  oft- 
times  but  a  vain  consolation,  since  the  prospect  of  living  an 
indefinite  number  of  years  in  a  world  where  we  have  already 
sufi'ered  so  much  seems  to  increase  rather  than  diminish  the 
burden  of  our  afiiiction. 

While  Mamy  gave  herself  up  to  an  abandonment  of  de- 
spair, Eila  set  herself  to  think  what  were  best  to  be  done  in 
the  pass  to  which  they  had  now  arrived.  She  saw  no  help 
either  at  hand  or  from  afar.  Willie  could  hardly  be  ex- 
pected to  do  more  than  keep  body  and  soul  together  in  Lon- 
don, and  unless  their  mother  should  grow  so  much  worse  as 
to  necessitate  their  sending  for  him  (how  Eila  shuddered  at 
the  thought !),  it  would  be  cruel  to  tell  him  of  their  dire  need. 
There  was  Reginald,  certainly ;  and  he  would  sell  the  coat  from 
his  back  to  help  them ;  but  Reginald,  for  all  his  goodwill,  was 
a  poor  man,  with  a  paralyzed  mother  depending  upon  him.  If 
the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  and  they  were  threatened  with 
expulsion — if  it  came  to  their  following  their  mother  upon  a 
stretcher  to  the  hospital,  and  having  to  beg  a  night's  shelter 
for  themselves  in  a  refuge,  she  would  pawn  or  sell  the 


EILA'S  NOTION. 


189 


Chevalier,  and  telegraph  as  a  last  resource  to  Hobart.  But 
would  it  not  be  better  in  the  first  place  to  try  and  earn 
money  legitimately  by  seizing  the  present  opportunity? 
There  was  nothing,  she  told  herself,  she  would  not  do  to 
save  her  mother  and  brother  and  sisters,  even  to  selling  her- 
self body  and  soul,  like  the  people  she  had  read  of  in  books. 
The  only  question  was  how  she  should  set  about  it.  She 
had  but  vague  notions  of  the  manner  in  which  people 
earned  money  by  selling  themselves.  In  books  the  heroine 
tlirew  a  shawl  over  her  head,  and  went  out  with  a  hectic 
flush  on  her  cheeks  and  a  feverish  light  in  her  eyes,  return- 
ing in  the  dawn  with  her  pockets  full  of  gold.  But  to  whom 
did  she  address  herself  for  the  gold  ?  and  would  not  one  die 
of  shame  if  the  first  person  addressed  should  drive  one  con- 
temptuously away  ?  Eila  felt  drearily  resentful  towards  Fate 
as  she  compared  her  lot  with  that  of  other  women.  If  she  had 
been  given  at  least  some  means  of  making  money  by  honest 
labour !  But  there  was  nothing  she  could  do.  She  was  a 
poor  hand  with  her  needle.  She  could  neither  draw,  nor 
sing,  nor  play  the  piano.  She  could  not  keep  accounts ;  she 
might,  indeed,  have  undertaken  the  care  of  young  children, 
or  given  lessons  in  English,  though  even  in  this  respect  she 
had  neither  system  nor  method.  But  how  could  she  help 
her  family  upon  the  wretched  pittance  either  of  these  call- 
ings would  bring  ?  "I  am  only  a  cumberer  of  the  ground," 
she  thought  bitterly ;  yet  she  had  all  the  time  a  vague  con- 
sciousness of  possessing  certain  qualities  which,  albeit  they 
were  not  marketable  like  accomplishments,  had  yet  a  certain 
value  of  their  own.  She  had  youth  and  health,  a  beautiful 
body,  quick  sympathies,  an  impressionable  mind,  and  a 
warm  heart.  If  she  could  only  find  an  employnient  where 
such  qualities  as  these  might  be  turned  to  account  I  Had 
she  not  heard  that  models  were  well  paid  by  the  artists  who 
drew  from  them  ?  If  the  Folies-Fantassin  venture  failed,  if 
some  poor  second  or  third  prize  should  be  yet  beyond  her 
grasp,  she  might  turn  model  as  a  last  expedient,  and  so  tide 
the  family  over  the  evil  days  that  had  befallen  them.  Wild 
ideas  of  going  into  the  street  and  studying  the  faces  that 
passed  her  until  she  found  one  that  looked  kind  and  sym- 


190  NOT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

pathizing-  enough  to  be  trusted  with  her  story  next  occurred 
to  her.  Tears  of  pity  for  her  mother  and  Truca  welled  into 
her  eyes  as  she  reviewed  the  position.  By-and-by  she  crept 
out  upon  the  balcony  again,  and  felt  the  cool  night  wind 
blow  across  her  wet  cheeks.  It  was  one  in  the  morning, 
and  the  city  was  bathed  in  the  balmy  light  of  a  golden 
autumn  moon.  Eila  could  distinguish  the  mighty  dome  of 
the  Pantheon  a  little  farther  dov/n,  duskily  defined  against 
the  starless  night  sky.  Farther  still  the  airy  spire  of  the 
beautiful  Sainte  Chapelle  pierced  the  soft  gloom ;  one  by 
one  the  separate  monuments  she  had  learned  to  recognise 
shaped  themselves  before  her  gaze  in  gray  but  separate 
distinctness.  She  could  even  see  where  the  river-lights 
twinkled  at  long  intervals  that  marked  the  bridges  of  the 
Seine.  How  vast  and  solemn  the  wondrous  city  looked  at 
this  tranquil  hour  of  the  night,  and  how  tiny  a  fraction  of 
it  she  and  her  belongings  represented,  camped  down  in 
their  bare  rooms  in  the  tawdry  building  behind  her !  If 
they  should  all  be  swept  away  to-night,  not  a  single  eye 
would  grow  dim,  not  a  tear  would  be  shed  by  any  one  of 
the  unknown  millions  of  fellow  creatures  around  them.  At 
most  the  milk-woman  and  the  auvergnat  who  brought  the 
braise,  from  both  of  whom  she  had  obtained  a  fortnight's 
credit,  would  feel  justifiably  indignant  at  having  been 
cheated  of  their  due.  To  arouse  friendly  sympathy  among 
total  strangers,  it  was  evident  that  money  was  the  first 
requisite.  They  must  pay  their  way  before  they  could  hope 
to  make  friends ;  and  they  had  barely  sufficient  to  keep  a 
roof,  to  say  nothing  of  a  ceiling,  over  their  heads.  Their 
mother's  illness  would  exhaust  the  last  penny,  and  more 
would  not  be  forthcoming  for  a  long  tinie  to  come. 

Some  belated  students  went  past  at  this  moment  with 
unsteady  step,  and  seeing  the  dark  figure  standing  in  the 
moonlit  balcony,  perched  midway  between  earth  and  heaven, 
like  a  sculptured  saint  enshrined  in  a  niche  between  the 
flamboyant  arches  of  some  ancient  Gothic  cathedral,  took 
off  their  hats  and  sang,  "  Le  voila !  Nicholas !  Ah  !  ah ! 
ah ! "  in  a  mocking  chorus.  Eila  retreated  hastily  into  the 
shadow  until  they  had  gone  by.     Looking  des^jairingly 


EILA'S  NOTION.  191 

across  the  dark  expanse  of  the  far-stretching  Paris  roofs,  she 
recalled  similar  nights  at  Cowa,  when  she  had  stood  under 
the  creeper-wreathed  frame  of  the  veranda  in  their  dear 
despised  colonial  home ;  and  surely  no  Peri  lamenting  her 
exile  from  Paradise  could  have  felt  more  bitter  regret  at  her 
banishment  from  that  peaceful  haven.  But  it  would  be 
unjust  to  suppose  that  it  was  the  hardness  of  her  own  indi- 
vidual lot  that  moved  her.  All  such  egoistic  regrets  were 
merged  into  passionate  sympathy  for  the  lot  of  the  others. 
It  had  been  the  height  of  happiness  in  her  younger  days  to 
stand  treat  for  her  little  brothers  and  sisters.  She  loved  to 
see  them  eat  their  fill ;  to  give  them  a  pleasure  and  to  see  them 
enjoy  it  was  the  keenest  delight  she  knew.  And  now  piti- 
less Destiny  was  constraining  her  to  deny  them  the  satisfac- 
tion of  their  very  hunger  and  thirst.  As  long  as  boiled  beef 
from  the  rotisserie,  and  bread  and  tea  (of  which  latter  they 
had  brought  a  supply  from  Tasmania)  were  forthcoming, 
they  could  do  without  luxuries.  But  even  this  poor  fare 
had  been  unduly  cut  down  to-day.  Chicken  broth  would  be 
needed  for  the  invalid,  and  meanwhile  cough-mixtures  and 
other  medicaments,  to  say  nothing  of  lemons  and  barley- 
water,  were  immediate  requirements. 

How  often  Eila  went  backwards  and  forwards  between 
the  balcony  and  her  mother's  bed  that  night  she  could  not 
have  told.  Four  o'clock  sounded  from  the  distant  Pantheon, 
and  the  great  and  small  clocks  of  churches  and  i^ublic  build- 
ings boomed  and  rang  the  same  hour  in  a  confused  and 
irregular  chorus.  The  air  was  growing  chiller  ;  behind  the 
trees  of  the  Luxembourg  Gardens  the  sky  held  a  far  promise 
of  dawn  in  its  ash-coloured  expanse.  Eila  felt  that  her 
hands  were  clammy,  and  her  hair  dank  with  the  dews  of 
night.  A  spasm  of  self-reproach  seized  her  as  she  hurried 
back  into  her  mother's  room.  What  if  she  should  have  been 
courting  the  advance  of  the  same  wearisome  malady  as  had 
laid  her  mother  low  ?  Upon  her  health  and  courage  the 
very  lives  of  the  others  seemed  to  depend,  though,  for  the 
matter  of  that,  what  were  their  lives  worth  to  them  under 
present  circumstances  ? 

Mrs.  Clare,  however,  was  still  slee^nng,  and  Eila  crept 


192  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

softly  into  the  reception-room,  where  Mamy  lay  asleep  face 
downwards  on  her  mattress,  and  took  the  Petit  Journal  from 
the  cupboard  into  which  she  had  thrust  it.  It  was  growing 
light  enough  now  to  read  without  the  aid  of  a  candle.  She 
took  it  to  the  window  and  glanced  over  the  "  Faits  Divers," 
wherein  a  host  of  daily  tragedies  are  laconically  recorded  ; 
among  them,  a  short  paragraph  entitled  "Les  Drames  de  la 
Misere  "  described  the  suicide  by  charcoal,  after  the  approved 
Paris  fashion,  of  a  mother  and  her  four  children. 

"  Why  them  and  not  us  ? "  reflected  Eila,  shuddering. 

And  suddenly  she  recalled  Mamy's  childish  wish,  that 
the  whole  family  could  ascend  to  heaven  altogether  upon 
the  same  fiery  car,  or  if  not  to  heaven,  at  least  to  rest  and 
forgetfulness.  To  forgetfulness  !  To  the  "  sleep  eternal " 
in  an  eternal  night,  of  which  Swinburne  had  sung.  If 
it  had  been  in  her  power  to  procure  instant  annihilation 
at  this  moment  for  herself  and  those  she  loved,  to  blot  them 
out  of  existence  as  completely  as  though  they  had  never 
had  part  nor  lot  in  it,  Eila  would  not  have  hesitated.  Per- 
haps the  Buddhists  were  right,  after  all,  in  regarding  life  as 
an  opportunity  aff'orded  them  for  ridding  themselves  of  the 
nightmare  of  existence,  and  who  anticipated  and  thus  averted 
the  worst  of  the  horrors  life  had  to  offer.  And  yet — and  yet 
— when  one  was  young  and  strong  and  comely,  when  the 
world  had  such  a  marvellous  store  of  interest  and  delight  to 
offer  to  brain  and  heart  and  senses,  it  was  hard  that,  for 
want  of  a  few  round  bits  of  metal,  existence  should  be 
nothing  but  a  torture-hole  of  Tantalus  !  Surely  there  must 
be  some  place  left  that  she  and  her  belongings  could  still  fill 
in  the  world. 

It  was  curious  that  in  the  present  crisis  Eila  did  not  think 
of  consulting  her  brother.  That  Dick  would  have  thrown 
himself  heart  and  soul  into  any  project  she  might  devise  for 
their  rescue  was  certain,  but  she  doubted  his  capacity  for 
being  of  use ;  and  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  tell  him 
that  the  family  was  on  the  brink  of  starvation  until  she  had 
made  a  last  desperate  effort  to  save  them. 

From  the  "  Drames  de  la  Misere  "  she  turned  once  more 
to  the  "  Prix  de  Beaute,"  and  this  time  she  read  the  para- 


EILA'S  NOTION.  193 

graph  carefully,  weighing  every  word.  She  smiled  iron- 
ically as  she  read  that  only  les  demoiselles  honorables  were 
invited  to  take  part  in  the  exhibition.  It  was  furthermore 
declared  that  no  favour  would  be  shown,  that  the  strictest 
impartiality  would  be  observed  in  awarding  the  pi'izes,  and 
that  beauty  pure  and  simple,  beauty  alone,  would  gain  the 
suffrages.  A  second  prize  of  two  thousand  francs  was  to  be 
awarded  to  the  second  on  the  list,  and  the  director  declared 
his  willingness  to  receive  the  applications  of  all  the  belles 
dames  who  should  present  themselves  between  ten  and 
twelve  in  the  morning  at  the  Folies-Fantassin  within  a 
specified  date.  The  list  would  be  closed  next  day.  When 
Eila  came  to  the  end  of  the  paragraph,  her  mind  was  made 
up.  The  pallor  of  a  great  resolution  blanched  her  cheeks  as 
she  laid  the  paper  down.  She  would  make  her  application 
next  day  at  the  eleventh  hour.  She  would  brave  all  the 
consequences :  the  publicity,  the  notoriety,  the  shame,  the 
insolent  looks  of  the  men  who  would  pass  her  "points" 
under  review ;  the  insults  of  the  crowd,  who  would  have 
purchased  the  right  of  insulting  her.  She  would  thankfully 
take  her  seat,  if  need  be,  among  the  painted  queens  of  fairs 
and  casinos,  and  bare  her  neck  and  arms  for  the  ribald  ap- 
preciation of  her  judges.  And  she  would  have  room  for  no 
other  feeling  than  a  pi'ayer  uttered  from  the  depth  of  her 
heart  that  she  might  find  favour  in  their  eyes,  and  that  they 
might  award  her  at  least  the  two-thousand-franc  prize  which 
was  to  save  her  family  from  starving.  The  five-thousand- 
franc  prize  was  certainly  beyond  her  reach.  Whatever 
might  be  thought  of  the  plan,  it  was  preferable  to  seeing 
Truca  and  the  rest  gasp  out  their  strong  young  lives  amid 
hideous  charcoal  fumes. 

Young  Mrs.  Frost's  next  operation  was  to  walk  softly  in 
the  growing  dawn  to  the  gilt-edged  mirror,  and  to  look  at 
herself  therein  with  intent  and  severe  scrutiny.  I  think  she 
was  reassured  by  the  reflection  that  met  her  gaze.  A  night- 
watch,  with  an  accompaniment  of  tear-shedding,  is  not  a 
becoming  process ;  but  Eila's  beauty  was  i)roof  against  more 
than  this.  The  mental  suffering  she  had  endured  had  had 
no  other  apparent  effect  than  that  of  darkening  her  eyes 


194  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

strangely.  They  seemed  to  shine  out  of  her  face,  which 
was  as  white  as  a  Pierrot's  with  an  almost  disquieting  lustre. 
There  was  not  the  faintest  trace  of  a  line  or  a  seam  to  be 
seen  in  the  colourless  face  ;  hardly  the  vaguest  indication  of 
a  crease  in  the  round,  sculptured  throat.  The  setting  of 
low-growing  hair  framed  her  forehead  and  cheeks  with 
dark  tendrils,  as  fhie  and  soft  as  though  they  had  been 
painted  against  the  fiesli.  Not  all  the  threadbare  shabbi- 
ness  of  the  old  jacket  and  skirt  she  had  thrown  on  over  her 
nightdress  could  conceal  the  beautiful  proportions  of  her 
form,  nor  disgviise  the  firm  roundness  of  her  arms  and 
bust ;  it  could  not  even  destroy  the  statuesque  line  from  the 
hip  downwards,  that  Greek  sculptors  have  defined  so  per- 
fectly in  the  marble  effigies  they  have  bequeathed  us  of  their 
draped  goddesses.  Eila  turned  away,  nevertheless,  from  her 
inspection  in  the  glass  with  a  sigh ;  but  a  sigh  may  mean 
many  things.  For  one  thing,  she  reflected  that  she  had  no 
dress  in  which  to  appear  upon  the  scene.  Perhaps  the  direc- 
tor of  the  Folies-Fantassin  could  tell  her  where  to  hire  one. 
It  mattered  so  little  what  she  put  on,  as  long  as  she  gained 
a  prize.  Perhaps  the  less  she  wore  the  better.  When  Vir- 
ginia in  the  romance  refused  to  disrobe  on  the  sinking  ves- 
sel, and  to  suffer  herself  to  be  carried  minus  her  clothes 
through  the  waves,  she  had  no  starving  brothers  and  sisters 
whose  lives  depended  upon  her  own.  She  was  haunted  by 
no  visions  of  a  home  besieged  by  the  grim  spectre  of  Want. 
She  might  throw  away  her  own  life  in  deference  to  an  arti- 
ficiality of  civilization  ;  she  would  not,  surely,  have  thrown 
away  the  dear  lives  that  depended  upon  hers. 

Eila  felt  almost  relieved  now  that  her  resolution  was  final- 
ly taken.  She  intended  to  keep  her  plan  a  secret  from  the 
others.  She  even  cherished  the  hope  that  she  might  so  man- 
age matters  that  they  would  never  know  the  truth.  The 
very  next  day  she  would  call  upon  the  director  of  the  Folies, 
and  if  he  held  out  a  reasonable  hope  of  success,  she  would 
feel  herself  justified  in  selling  or  pawning  the  few  little  per- 
sonal belongings  that  were  still  liers,  and  spending  the  money 
thus  procured  in  keej)ing  the  household  together  until  the  issue 
of  the  contest  for  the  "  Prix  de  Beaute  "  should  be  decided. 


EILA'S  NOTION  TAKES  SHAPE.  195 

CHAPTER  XII. 

eila's  notion  takes  shape. 

Almost  everyone  has  expei'ienced  the  strange  fact  that 
trivial  words  and  unimportant  scenes  will  engrave  them- 
selves enduringly  in  the  memory,  while  golden  maxims  and 
spectacles  of  grave  import  will  leave  but  shadowy  impres- 
sions in  their  wake.  It  is  in  vain  that  we  attempt  to  exjilain 
this  humiliating  circumstance.  The  explanation  least  mor- 
tifying to  our  vanity  is  that,  when  the  meaningless  joke  or 
trivial  occurrence  inscribed  itself  so  indelibly  in  our  minds, 
our  brains  chanced  to  be  in  a  peculiarly  receptive  condition, 
so  that,  like  highly-sensitive  plates,  they  retained  whatsoever 
was  recorded  on  them.  We  will  not  admit  that  foolish  and 
risque  refrains  could  appeal  more  sti'ongly  to  our  recollec- 
tion than  weighty  and  solemn  discourses  ;  but  we  are  fain 
to  wish  sometimes  that  the  discourses  could  have  found  our 
brains  in  the  same  condition  of  suj^ersensitiveness  as  enabled 
us  to  retain  the  refrains. 

When  Eila  took  her  long  drive  on  the  top  of  the  Clichy- 
Odeon  omnibus  in  search  of  the  beauty-hunting  director  of 
the  Folies-Fantassin,  the  Paris  that  lay  about  her  feet  was 
the  normal  workaday  Paris  with  which  she  was  now  famil- 
iar. Even  had  it  been  otherwise,  her  mind  should  have  been 
too  absorbed  by  the  weighty  matters  that  filled  it — her  moth- 
er's illness,  the  wretched  condition  of  the  family,  and  her 
own  desperate  resolution — to  allow  of  her  noticing  what 
passed  in  the  outward  world.  Yet  it  was  a  remarkable  fact 
that  her  absorption  seemed  rather  to  increase  than  to  dimin- 
ish the  acuteness  of  her  vision.  It  was  as  though  the  tension 
of  her  mind  had  affected  all  her  senses,  and  had  strained 
them,  so  to  speak,  to  concei*t-]Ditch.  For  ever  after  the  recol- 
lection of  this  drive  was  i^hotographed  on  her  brain  with  all 
its  minutest  circumstances — photographed,  moreover,  accord- 
ing to  latest  discoveries,  in  all  the  vivid  colours  that  the 
reality  had  worn.  Her  eyes  seemed  to  embrace  in  one  sweep 
the  pale  autumn  sky  overhead,  the  drooping  leaves  that 
clung  weakly  to  the  branches  on  the  boulevard  trees,  the 


196  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

Brobdingnagian  gilt  letters  that  adorned  the  fronts  of  the 
endlessly  tall  houses,  the  glimpses  of  indoor  life  in  the  en- 
tresols with  which  she  was  now  at  a  level  upon  her  perch, 
the  sweeping.  Seine,  with  its  changing  patches  of  light  and 
shade,  the  bright  crowd  in  the  streets  below — rich  and  poor, 
busy  and  idle,  virtuous  and  vicious,  fat  and  lean — all  so 
much  alike  in  their  outward  aspect  of  trimness  and  neat- 
ness. A  double  train  of  thought  was  coursing  through  her 
mind  as  she  watched  the  scene.  While  her  eyes  Avere  taking 
it  all  in,  her  thoughts  were  busy  with  the  home  she  had  left. 
Her  mother  had  seemed  inclined  to  doze,  and  might  safely 
be  left  to  Mamy's  care.  Mamy  herself,  upon  whom  the  least 
ray  of  hope  acted  as  a  charm,  had  been  up  betimes  to  help 
in  the  tidying-up.  This  was  a  j^rocess  soon  accomplished 
where  there  were  literally  but  a  few  sticks  of  furniture  to 
tidy.  She  had  also  run  down  before  seven  in  the  morning 
with  the  hac  dfordure  rather  than  allow  Dick,  who  was  still 
asleep,  to  be  awakened  to  perform  the  operation.  Two  stu- 
dents from  the  Ecole  de  Medecine  had  turned  round  to  stare 
in  astonished  admiration  at  the  vision  of  the  white-throated, 
sunny-haired  maiden  setting  down  her  scavenger's  burden 
upon  the  pavement.  Next  Dick,  after  he  had  devoured  half 
the  spiral  loaf  and  a  bowl  of  chicory  coffee  of  Eila's  prepar- 
ing, had  been  sent  off  to  a  co-operative  chemist's  where  a  re- 
duction was  made  upon  all  the  drugs.  Eila  herself  had  taken 
advantage  of  his  absence  to  prepare  for  her  expedition,  and 
Mamy  had  been  not  a  little  surprised  at  the  time  she  be- 
stowed upon  her  prej)arations.  Her  surprise  was  still  greater 
as  Eila  emerged  from  her  room  dressed  in  her  best,  looking 
radiantly  handsome  in  her  shiny  black  alpaca  and  her  little 
Marie  Stuart  bonnet,  the  latter  covered  by  a  flimsy  trans- 
parency of  gauze,  through  which  her  dark  eyes  and  virginal 
complexion  looked  unutterably  soft.  She  had  unearthed 
from  the  depths  of  one  of  the  battered  trunks  a  small  square 
of  Maltese  lace,  a  relic  of  better  days,  which  encircled  her 
throat  of  marble.  Mamy  did  not  dissimulate  her  astonish- 
ment as  she  noted  the  transformation  in  her  sister's  ap- 
pearance. 

"  What  are  you  dressed  uj)  to  the  nines  like  that  for  ? " 


EILA'S  NOTION  TAKES  SHAPE.  197 

she  asked  in  discontented  tones,  in  which  a  certain  admira- 
tion was,  however,  discernible. 

"The  only  decent  rig  I  have,  dear,"  replied  Eila,  apoleget- 
ically.  "  One  mustn't  cry  misery  when  one  is  in  search  of 
work,  you  know." 

'  You  in  search  of  work ! "  echoed  Mamy  derisively, 
''  People  will  be  more  likely  to  think  they've  got  to  bow  you 
out  to  your  carriage !  I  should  never  believe  you  wanted 
work  if  you  came  to  me  like  that ;  I  should  think  you  were 
joking.    No  one  will  venture  to  otfer  you  work,  you'll  see." 

"  What !  not  if  I  asked  for  it  ?  You  may  be  sure  they 
will.     Why  shouldn't  they  ? " 

"  Why  shouldn't  they  ? "  echoed  Mamy.  "  Just  look  at 
yourself  in  the  glass !  You  might  be  a  princess  in  disguise. 
One  can't  help  looking  grand  when  one  is  so  handsome,  I 
suppose." 

"Do  you  really  think  I  look  handsome  this  morning, 
Mamy  dear  ? "  Eila  asked,  with  an  eagerly  appealing  air. 

Mamy  shrugged  her  shoulders  disdainfully. 

"  You  can't  think  how  cross  you  make  me  feel !  You 
know  you're  frightfully  good-looking.  What's  the  use  of 
talking  about  it  ?  What  good  is  it  here,  excepting  to  make 
people  stare  at  you  and  follow  you  about  in  the  street  ? " 

To  this  objection,  however,  Eila  did  not  reply.  She  was 
drawing  on  the  pair  of  kid  gloves  that  had  been  destined  for 
her  visit  to  her  cousin.  Latterly  she  had  foregone  gloves 
altogether,  or  concealed  her  hands  out  of  doors  in  an  old 
muff  that  had  reached  its  limit  of  perennial  shabbiness  sev- 
eral years  ago. 

"  You'll  bring  something  in  with  you  for  dinner,  any- 
how," said  Mamy  anxiously,  as  she  followed  her  sister  to  the 
landing. 

Eila  nodded,  and  ran  lightly  down  the  long  uncarpeted 
flight  of  stairs.  The  man-concier'ge,  who  was  waxing  the 
landing  of  the  premiere,  made  way  for  her  surlily  as  she 
passed.  He  was  too  much  of  a  Frenchman  to  withhold  his 
staring  tribute  of  admiration  as  she  flitted  by ;  but,  as  he 
slid  his  foot  backwards  and  forwards  over  the  boards,  a  mut- 
tered "  'Cre-nom  "  betrayed  the  perplexity  of  his  mind.    In- 


198  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

deed,  the  family  from  outremer,  on  the  quatrieme,  was  the 
occasion  of  chronic  bewilderment  to  the  concierge  pair.  In- 
mates such  as  these  were  a  new  and  unexplained  fact  in 
their  exi^erience.  Not  only  had  they  no  furniture  to  speak 
of,  which  was  a  suspicious  feature  in  itself,  but  they  had  no 
apparent  calling  or  occupation.  That  they  were  miserably 
poor  was  certain;  yet  they  did  nothing,  and  mother  and 
daughters  were  obviously  without  an  amant.  Anything  so 
hopelessly  unpractical,  so  u.tterly  irreconcilable  with  the 
dictates  of  the  most  elementary  intelligence,  had  never  been- 
witnessed  during  all  tlie  concierge's  term  of  office.  He  had 
endeavoured  to  make  something  of  the  letters  from  Australia 
that  it  occasionally  behoved  him  to  carry  to  the  quatrieme, 
and  of  which  he  had  begged  the  stamps ;  but  here,  too,  his 
efforts  had  proved  unavailing.  He  would  have  set  the 
family  down  as  Nihilists  had  such  a  suspicion  been  compati- 
ble with  their  evident  ignorance  of  even  the  names  of  those 
who  held  the  reins  of  power  in  France,  and  with  the  gener- 
ally "  gullible  "  and  innocent  air  that  characterized  them. 

Eila  meanwhile  was  looking  down  into  the  Paris  streets 
from  her  elevated  seat  on  the  top  of  the  omnibus.  All  her 
life  long  she  would  remember  the  aspect  of  the  river  as  she 
saw  it  dancing  beneath  her  while  she  crossed  the  bridge, 
with  the  autumn  sun  pricking  it  into  sparkles,  and  the  trail 
of  the  steamers  scoring  its  silver-gray  surface  with  undulat- 
ing bands.  Clattering  across  the  Place  du  Carrousel,  the 
heavy  vehicle  rolled  beneath  the  narrow  Louvre  archway, 
and  came  to  a  standstill  near  the  Palais  Royal  before  taking 
a  fresh  freight  of  passengers  for  Clichy ;  then  up  the  busy 
Rue  de  Richelieu,  with  its  old-world  air  and  great  library, 
where  students  bury  themselves  in  past  ages  in  the  heart  of 
modern  Paris,  and  thence  into  the  seething  life  of  the  G-rands 
Boulevards,  framed  in  an  indistinct  setting  of  pale,  gold- 
broidered  facades  and  tremulous  yellow-green  leaves.  Here 
Eila  left  the  omnibus,  and  set  herself  to  walk  bravely  through 
unknown  streets  to  the  Folies-Fantassin.  She  had  enough 
of  the  Marie  Bashkirtsetf  element  in  her  nature  to  have  felt 
excited  and  elated  under  other  circumstances  at  the  evident 
admiration  she  aroused  on  her  passage.    Now  she  only  valued 


EILA'S  NOTION  TAKES  SHAPE.  199 

it  as  an  encouragement  to  carry  out  the  thing  she  had  under- 
taken. She  was  obliged  to  retrace  her  steps  more  than  once 
before  she  found  the  building,  for  the  streets  were  tortuous, 
and  she  was  diffident  of  asking  her  way.  She  found  it  at 
last — a  leprous-hued  edifice,  with  a  side-entrance  that  led 
into  a  dark,  descending  passage.  The  front-doors  appeared 
to  be  closed,  and  she  was  hesitating  whether  to  penetrate 
into  the  passage  by  the  side-entrance,  or  to  knock  boldly  at 
the  front-door,  when  a  middle-aged  gentleman  of  large  girth, 
with  very  prominent  eyes,  and  the  kind  of  fat  French  face 
she  had  so  often  seen  caricatured  in  Punch,  came  through 
the  side-entrance  smoking  a  cigar.  "  Gentleman,"  she  would 
have  called  him,  in  deference  to  his  clothes,  which  had  an 
air  of  premeditated  smartness,  though  it  flashed  across  her 
mind  that  the  French  title  of  Monsieur,  which  is  of  almost 
universal  application,  would  have  described  him  more  cor- 
rectly. She  had  lived  in  Paris  just  long  enough  to  compre- 
hend that  it  is  possible  for  a  monsieur  to  be  a  gentleman,  but 
just  as  likely  that  he  may  be  the  reverse.  An  individu,  on 
the  other  hand,  can  hardly  fail  to  be  anything  but  a  doubt- 
ful, ill-dressed  personage. 

The  monsieur  she  encountered  to-day  started  back  as  he 
came  suddenly  face  to  face  with  her,  and  said  in  perfectly 
audible  tones : 

"  Bonte  du  ciel !  quelle  jolie  fille ! " 

But  her  sense  of  the  exceeding  gravity  of  her  mission 
prevented  her  from  being  disconcerted  by  the  compliment. 
She  hardly  noticed  it,  in  fact ;  only  her  cheeks  grew  visibly 
paler,  and  her  lips  quivered  as  she  inquired  timidly  in  her 
best  French  whether  it  was  here  that  she  might  expect  to 
find  the  director  of  the  Folies-Fantassin. 

"  Mais  c'est  moi,  mademoiselle ! "  replied  her  new  ac- 
quaintance, with  a  delighted  bow.  "Venez  done,  je  vous 
ferai  inscrire  sur  I'instant." 

Eila  followed  him  down  the  dark  passage,  with  a  trepi- 
dation tempered  by  a  general  feeling  of  unreality,  to  a  lit- 
tered room,  looking  out  upon  one  of  those  foul,  damp,  dark, 
and  contracted  stone  spaces  that  are  assumed  to  be  yards  in 
Paris.     The  office  seemed,  however-,  only  to  form  part  of 


200  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

a  wing  attached  to  the  main  building,  which  apparently- 
stretched  in  its  turn  a  long  way  back  until  it  culminated  in 
a  photographer's  studio  perched  upon  so  elevated  a  house-top 
that  it  made  the  neck  as  well  as  the  eye  ache  to  look  up  at 
it.  Eila  felt  her  heart  flutter  like  a  frightened  bird  as  she 
took  the  seat  the  director  pointed  out  to  her.  Tliough  he  had 
a  second-rate  theatrical  cast  of  face,  which  made  her  think 
vaguely  of  circus-ridei*s  and  organ-grinders,  and  especially 
of  a  certain  brigand  hero  she  had  seen  long  ago  on  the  Hobart 
stage,  and  whom  she  had  passionately  worshipped  in  her 
imagination  thi-oughout  an  entire  evening,  thei*e  yet  seemed 
to  her  to  be  something  in  it  that  might  be  appealed  to.  His 
eyes,  it  was  true,  goggled  undisguised  admiration  of  her 
charms,  but  there  was  nothing  deliberately  insulting  in  their 
expression.  On  the  contrary,  there  was  a  certain  comic  stu- 
pefaction in  their  regard,  as  though  they  had  been  saying : 
"  Que  diable  vient-elle  faire  dans  cette  galere ! " 

She  was  spared  the  embarrassment  of  explaining  her 
mission,  for  the  director  seemed  to  know  it  intuitively,  and 
she  was  innocently  struck  by  what  she  regarded  as  evidence 
of  great  tact  and  discrimination  on  his  part.  If  he  had  not 
guessed  why  she  had  come,  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  would 
never  have  found  the  courage  to  tell  him.  She  did  try, 
however,  to  explain  that  it  was  the  need  of  money  that  had 
driven  her  to  take  such  a  step,  whereat  he  looked  at  her 
again  with  an  air  of  half-incredulous,  half-mocking  per- 
plexity that  might  have  been  interpreted  in  many  diiferent 
ways.  As  she  said  nothing,  but  only  blushed  under  the 
look,  he  shrugged  his  fat  shoulders,  as  though  to  imply  that 
he  gave  up  trying  to  solve  the  mystery  for  the  present. 
Eila  gave  herself  the  name  of  Clara  Rose,  of  which  she  had 
thought  in  the  night,  but  admitted  that  it  was  an  assumed 
one.  The  director  seemed  to  hesitate  between  his  desire  to 
question  her  farther  and  the  necessity  for  keeping  an  en- 
gagement. He  pulled  out  his  watch,  and  uttered  an  in- 
voluntary "  Diable ! "  as  he  rose  from  his  chair.  But  the 
object  of  young  Mrs.  Frost's  visit  had  been  fulfilled.  The 
last  step  had  been  taken.  The  director  had  even  given  her 
the  address  of  the  theatrical  costumier  who  would  provide 


EILA'S  NOTION  TAKES  SHAPE.  201 

her  the  costume  slie  was  to  wear.  He  had  hurriedly  jotted 
down  the  items  of  it  as  lie  scanned  her  person.  She  was 
also  directed  to  return  the  morning  before  the  exhibition,  in 
order  that  she  might  be  shown  the  place  she  would  have  to 
occupy  on  the  stage.  The  whole  affair  had  been  so  easily 
and  rapidly  arranged,  and  the  director  seemed  to  look  upon 
it  as  so  normal  and  practical  a  proceeding,  that  Eila  felt 
half  reassured  as  she  turned  away  from  him  on  her  home- 
ward way,  after  he  had  ushered  her  through  the  dark  pas- 
sage to  the  street.  There  was  yet  a  little  time  to  spare 
before  she  would  be  expected  home,  and  she  availed  herself 
of  it  to  go  once  more  to  the  address  her  mother  had  brought 
from  Hobart,  and  to  see  whether  she  might  discover  some 
news  of  her  cousin.  It  seemed  a  forlorn  hope,  but  this 
time  she  was  more  successful,  though  the  news  she  obtained 
filled  her  with  despair.  She  heard  that  a  Monsieur  Hubert 
de  Merle  had  actually  occupied  an  apartment  hereabouts 
before  the  street  was  changed  many  years  ago.  It  was  be- 
fore the  Franco-Prussian  War.  Monsieur  de  Merle  was 
supposed  to  have  had  friends  among  the  Communists,  and 
perhaps  he  had  thought  it  prudent  to  leave  France.  Some 
exiles  who  retm-ned  from  New  Caledonia  had  reported  that 
he  had  become  a  "  squattere  "  in  Australia.  In  Australia ! 
Eila's  voice  faltered  as  she  thanked  the  man  who  gave  her 
this  explanation.  Nothing  more  definite  was  to  be  obtained, 
and  she  trudged  home  (three  sous  saved  counted  for  some- 
thing) with  a  depressing  sense  that  the  family  migration 
had  been  even  a  greater  act  of  folly  than  she  had  supposed. 
Not  only  had  they  pursued  an  ignis  fatuus  across  the  world, 
but  they  had  left  the  solid  substance  behind  them  in  a 
double  sense. 

Hubert  had  been,  in  all  probability,  within  a  very  few 
days  of  them,  while  they  had  been  making  the  most  un- 
heard-of sacrifices  to  come  to  Europe  in  search  of  him. 
Perhaps  he  had  been  living  for  years  in  their  very  neigh- 
bourhood, for  Australians  and  Tasmanians  are  neighbours. 
Nay,  he  might  even  have  come  to  Hobart  itself  among  the 
army  of  summer  strangers,  without  their  knowing  any- 
thing about  it. 


202  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

They  could  have  sympathized  with  his  life  and  his  work, 
for  doubtless  he  spoke  the  same  language  as  themselves, 
and  got  at  the  rights  of  the  wonderful  ruby  story  that  con- 
cerned them.  Pondering  over  these  things,  Eila  returned 
home,  and,  to  the  eager  questions  poured  forth  by  Mamy  as 
she  opened  the  door,  replied  gravely  that  she  had  put  in  a 
claim  for  a  kind  of  work  she  thought  she  might  be  capable 
of  undertaking,  but  that  it  was  useless  to  question  her  fur- 
ther, as  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  say  nothing  until  the 
matter  was  decided. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

BOHEMIA'S  VISITORS. 

About  ten  days  later,  as  Eila  was  returning  along  the 
old  Rue  St.  Jacques  from  a  secret  expedition  to  the  theat- 
rical costumier,  who  was  arranging  her  a  kind  of  Bacchante 
costume,  taken  from  a  mythological  ballet,  a  very  different 
aspect  of  Paris  was  greeting  the  eyes  of  Lucy  Warden  and 
her  brother,  standing  in  one  of  the  balconies  in  front  of  an 
upper  room  of  the  Hotel  Continental,  overlooking  the  gar- 
den of  the  Tuileries.  The  branches  of  the  famous  elms  over 
the  way  w^ere  only  sprinkled  now  with  limp  leaves,  that  the 
faintest  breeze  brought  fluttering  down.  The  air  was  just  a 
little  chill,  for  the  summer  heats  had  long  been  cooled  by 
the  frigid  nights  of  autumn,  and  Lucy  had  thrown  a  seal- 
skin tippet,  as  new  and  sleek  and  rich-looking  as  everything 
else  she  possessed,  over  her  not  too  plump  shoulders.  Lucy 
was  not  what  the  French  expressively  call  etoffee  in  a  fleshly 
sense.  On  the  other  hand,  she  heaped  upon  her  spare  little 
person  stuff's  botli  rich  and  rare,  and  it  was  a  belief  in  the 
family  that  you  might  stick  a  pin  into  any  part  of  Lucy's 
attire,  when  she  was  "dressed  for  the  day,"  with  the  sole  ex- 
ception of  her  waistband,  without  the  risk  of  encountering 
her  flesh.  , 

Mrs.  Warden,  with  her  son  and  daughter,  had  arrived  in 


BOHEMIA'S  VISITORS.  203 

Paris  only  the  day  before,  and  Sydney  had  already  inscribed 
their  names  in  the  hotel-book,  with  a  proud  flourish  of  Black 
Swan  Station,  Victoria,  and  Emu  Villa,  Tasmania,  appended 
to  them.  He  had  consulted  the  list  of  theatres  posted  up  for 
the  benefit  of  inmates,  and  had  taken  his  mother  and  sister 
to  see  Sarah  Bernhardt  in  "  La  Tosca."  The  young  people 
had  been  immensely  impressed,  and  their  mother  a  trifle 
bewildered.  Indeed,  Mrs.  Warden  found  it  necessary  to 
remind  herself  more  than  once  during-  the  course  of  tlie 
drama  that  it  was  really  the  thing,  after  all,  to  go  and  ad- 
mire Sarah  Bernhardt  in  this  particular  piece.  Otherwise, 
there  were  details  in  it  she  would  rather,  for  her  own  part, 
have  avoided  witnessing.  To-day  their  time  was  all  their 
own,  and  Mrs.  Warden  was  casting  about  for  the  best  means 
of  imi^roving  the  shining  hours  of  the  bright  Paris  afternoon, 
and  moving  rather  laboriously  about  the  charming  room  she 
shared  with  her  daughter,  when  Lucy  and  her  brother  dis- 
cussed their  plans  outside. 

"  How  pretty  it  is  over  there,  to  be  sure  !  "  said  Lucy  re- 
flectively. "  Do  look  at  the  ribands  of  that  woman  with  tlie 
children  !  A  nurse,  I  suppose.  Tliey  almost  sweep  the 
ground!  And  what  smart  gold  pins  she  has  in  her  cap, 
too!" 

"Just  look  how  that  fellow  holds  his  reins,"  said  Sydney, 
for  whom  the  aspect  of  the  riders  and  their  mounts  on  the 
way  to  the  Bois  was  more  interesting  than  the  pins  and  rib- 
ands of  the  nounoiis.     "  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  duffer  ? " 

"  He  has  a  nice  horse,  though,"  observed  Lucy  doubt- 
fully. "  By-the-by,  Sydney,  if  we  go  and  see  the  Clares  to- 
day, will  you  come  with  us  ?  We  have  their  address,  you 
know." 

"  Why  ?  Did  mother  say  she  was  going  ? "  asked  Sydney, 
after  a  pause. 

His  tone  sounded  more  sulky  than  encouraging,  for  his 
mother's  attitude  towards  his  friends  had  been  long  a  sore 
point  with  the  young  man.  He  knew  that  she  looked  upon 
it  as  a  condescension  to  visit  them,  and  was  prepared  to  re- 
sent her  patronage  on  his  own  account  as  well  as  on  theirs. 

"She  didn't  exactly  say  she  was  going,"  Lucy,  replied 
14 


204  NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

g-ixardeclly ;  "  but  I  know  she  will  if  I  ask  her.  After  all, 
Sydney  " — this  after  a  moment's  reflection — "  you  must  see 
that  neither  Mrs.  Clare  nor  young  Mrs.  Frost  is  altogether 
mother's  sort." 

"  They're  not  always  chattering  about  the  fashions,  if  you 
mean  that,"  said  Sydney  warmly.  He  did  not  reply,  "I 
never  said  they  were,"  for  Lucy's  words  showed  that  she  had 
divined  to  a  certain  extent  what  was  passing  in  his  mind. 

"  No,  I  don't  mean  that,"  said  Lucy  calmly.  Her  face, 
however,  was  a  trifle  sulfu.sed ;  Sydney's  contemptuous  ut- 
terance of  the  word  "  fashions  "  seemed  like  a  reflection  upon 
her  mother  and  herself.  "  I  mean  something  quite  different, 
though,  as  far  as  that  goes,  it  is  silly  to  be  always  attacking 
the  fashion  as  you  do.  I  am  sure  there  are  heaps  of  clever, 
fashionable  people  in  the  world,  whatever  you  may  say,  just 
as  there  are  stupid  unfashionable  ones.  I  wasn't  thinking 
about  the  Clares  in  that  way,  nor  about  the  peculiar  style  in 
which  they  dress.  If  that  were  all,  one  would  not  mind  so 
much " 

"  If  what  were  all  ?  "  interrupted  Sydney  gruffly.  "  I  don't 
know  what  on  earth  you're  talking  about !  " 

"  If  their  being  outwardly  jieculiar  were  all,"  replied  Lucy 
frostily,  ''  one  would  not  mind  so  much,  though  they  are  un- 
like everybody  else  one  knows.  But  they  have  such  pecul- 
iar ideas.  They  scoff  at  religion,  for  one  thing ;  still,  I  sup- 
pose they  are  to  be  pitied,  for  they  really  are  an  unfortunate 
family.  There's  young  Mrs.  Frost,  for  instance ;  if  she 
hadn't  married  in  such  a  hurry,  she  might  really  have  made 
a  good  match  in  the  end.  People  think  her  very  good-look- 
ing, and  she  is  pretty,  in  a  way,  if  she  were  only  a  little  bet- 
ter dressed ;  and  Mamy,  too.  I  can't  think  how  she  could 
be  so  silly  as  to  behave  as  she  did  in  Hobart." 

Sydney  pulled  his  travelling-cap — he  had  set  it  on  his 
head  as  he  came  out  upon  the  balcony — farther  over  his  fore- 
head. 

"  How  did  she  behave  ? "  he  said,  with  studied  indiffer- 
ence, but  quailing  inwardly. 

He  had  looked  away  from  his  sister  as  he  asked  the  ques- 
tion, and  Lucy  affected  to  yawn  as  she  replied : 


BOHEMIA'S  VISITORS.  205 

"  Why,  everyone  knows  she  was  an  outrageous  little  flirt. 
She  was  going  the  right  way  to  ruin  all  her  chances  of  get- 
ting settled  in  life." 

"  Getting  a  husband,  you  mean  ! "  said  her  brother  shortlj^ 
"  I  don't  suppose  she'd  got  to  the  end  of  her  chances,  as  you 
call  it,  seeing  she  was  only  seventeen  last  March." 

"  How  well  you  know  her  age  for  a  stranger !  "  observed 
Lucy,  with  meaning.  She  had  coloured  a  little  at  Syd- 
ney's comment ;  for  Lucy  was  sensitive  upon  the  score  of 
her  age,  and  often  secretly  regretted  that  she  was  not  three 
years  her  brother's  junior  instead  of  his  senior.  "  I  know 
Mamy's  only  a  child,  if  it  comes  to  that,"  she  continued ; 
"  but  she  was  a  most  precocious  ■  little  flirt,  all  the  same. 
Well,  I  suppose  we  shall  have  to  go  and  see  them  this  morn- 
ing. You  got  their  address  from  the  bank  in  London,  you 
know.  How  astonished  they  wall  be,  to  be  sure !  We  are 
the  last  people  in  the  world  they  would  think  of  seeing  in 
Paris." 

Sydney  would  infinitely  have  preferred  calling  upon  his 
friends  alone.  So  completely,  indeed,  did  he  incorporate 
himself  with  them,  that  he  would  have  liked  to  send  them 
timely  warning  of  his  mother's  intended  visit.  He  did  not 
do  so ;  and  the  consequence  was,  that  a  couple  of  hours  later 
a  carriage  from  the  Hotel  Continental  drew  up  before  the 
tall  house  in  the  Boulevard  de  I'Observatoire,  and  two  richly- 
clad  ladies,  accompanied  by  a  young  man  whose  morning- 
suit  of  finest  serge  proclaimed  him  to  be  dressed  by  a  genu- 
ine English  tailor — no  counterfeit  tailleur  Anglais — in- 
quired of  the  evil-looking  concierge  the  number  of  Madame 
Clare's  apartment.  Little  did  the  visitors  imagine,  as  they 
rustled  up  the  stairs,  that  their  visit  was  equivalent  to  bring- 
ing a  week's  rent  in  their  pockets,  since  it  had  the  efi'ect  of 
inducing  the  concierge  to  extend  to  a  fortnight  the  week's 
credit  he  had  given  Eila. 

The  mid-day  meal  that  day  consisted  of  a  fi-anc  portion 
of  cabbage-soup  and  some  bread.  Ever  after  Eila  trembled 
to  reflect  that  if  Mrs.  Warden  had  arrived  just  five  minutes 
earlier,  she  must  have  seen  Dick  mounting  the  stairs  with 
the  tin  of  soup  in  one  hand,  and  a  loaf  like  a  spiral  walk- 


206  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

ing-stick  in  the  other.  Fate,  however,  was  kind,  for  the 
family  were  all  indoors.  Unfortunately,  the  table  in  the 
ante-chamber  was  laid — that  is  to  say,  it  was  covered  with 
two  newspapers  in  lieu  of  a  cloth,  and  four  coarse  soup- 
plates,  into  which  Eila  was  about  to  pour  the  soup  from  the 
saucepan  in  which  she  had  been  heating  it  over  an  inade- 
quate fire  of  braize  in  the  miniature  kitchen,  when  voices 
and  the  trailing  of  silk  skirts  were  distinctly  heard  upon  the 
landing.  A  peremptory  knock  at  the  door  followed,  and  for 
one  breathless  moment  the  family  lost  their  presence  of 
mind.  Eila  rushed  into  the  kitchen  with  her  saucepan,  and 
threw  off  her  soiled  blue  apron.  Truca  made  a  bolt  into  her 
mother's  room,  and  hid  behind  the  door.  Mamy,  attired  in 
an  old  walking-jacket  which  had  shed  half  its  front  buttons, 
whereby  a  long  line  of  milk-white  throat  was  displayed,  ad- 
vanced boldly  to  the  door.  She  opened  it  cautiously,  with 
an  air  of  frightened  expectancy,  and  found  herself  face  to 
face  with  Sydney.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  the  poor  child 
repressed  a  cry  of  emotion.  Her  very  home  in  Hobart 
seemed  to  have  walked  upstairs  in  his  person.  Yet  the  dis- 
tance that  separated  her  from  him  appeared  greater  than 
ever,  for  Mamy  had  begun  to  understand  that  social  barriers 
are  more  difficult  to  surmount  than  geographical  ones.  But 
Sydney's  face  wore  the  same  expression  of  dog-like  devotion 
as  ever.  No  heed  look  he  of  the  absence  of  collar  or  the 
lack  of  buttons  on  Mamy's  jacket.  Buttons  or  no  buttons, 
she  was  always  the  one  maid  in  the  world  for  him.  His 
eager  grip  of  her  timidly-extended  hand  almost  hurt  her 
fingers,  and  contrasted  oddly  with  the  fashionable  hand- 
shake bestowed  by  Mrs.  Warden's  daintily-gloved  fingers, 
and  Lucy's  conventional  kiss  ;  for  Lucy  had  no  understand- 
ing of  kissing,  which  is  a  thing  that  comes  naturally,  or 
that  never  comes  at  all.  And  now  Eila  emerged  from  the 
kitchen  with  a  grim  determination  to  keep  up  appearances  in 
the  teeth  of  everything.  She  led  the  iiarty  promptly  through 
the  dark  ante-chamber  into  the  brilliantly  bare  reception- 
room,  against  the  walls  of  which  the  battered  trunks  stood 
in  a  helpless  row,  feeling  inwardly  wrath  with  Dick  for 
leaving  his  coat  and  boots  upon  the  floor. 


BOHEMIA'S  VISITORS.  207 

"You  see  we  are  all  in  confusion,"  she  said  apologet- 
ically ;  "  but  we  hope  to  make  this  room  look  pretty  by-and- 
by  when  we  get  the  furniture  in." 

"  It  will  look  sweet,  I  am  sure ! "  said  Lucy  graciously. 
"  I  suppose  you  have  only  just  come  here  ?  " 

"  We  have  not  been  here  long,"  said  Eila,  with  a  frown- 
ing aside  in  the  direction  of  Mamy,  who  was  just  about  to 
say,  "  Six  weeks."  "  What  we  most  delight  in  is  the  view. 
Go  and  get  some  chairs — will  you,  Dick  ?  You  won't  mind 
their  being  kitchen  ones  ? "  with  a  smile  at  her  visitors ; 
"nothing  is  in  its  place  yet." 

The  chairs  were  brought,  and  Mrs.  Warden  and  her 
daughter  were  ensconced  in  them  at  the  open  window, 
whence  the  well-nigh  bare  Luxembourg  trees,  brushed  with 
a  haze  of  lilac,  were  to  be  seen  to  the  best  advantage.  Mrs. 
Warden  inquired  after  each  member  of  the  family  in  turn, 
and  professed  herself  overcome  with  sympathy  for  poor  dear 
Mrs.  Clare,  whom  she  would  have  been  so  charmed  to  see. 
Deeply  interested  she  declared  herself,  too,  in  the  young 
people's  pursuits.  She  carried  on  a  conversation  with  Eila 
in  an  under-tone  respecting  art  studies  in  Paris  generally. 

"  Lucy — dear  child  ! — would  so  like  to  improve  herself  in 
her  flower-painting.  She  wants  me  to  leave  her  for  a  time  in 
Paris  with  Miss  Flyte-Smythe — the  Archdeacon's  sister,  you 
know.  Quite  a  charming  person !  I  told  you  about  her  in 
Hobart,  I  believe.  It  seems  they  have  living  models  in  the 
studios,  after  all ;  and  I  have  heard,  though  I  can't  quite  be- 
lieve it,  that — they  have  nothing  on.  However,  Miss  Flyte- 
Smythe  is  entirely  in  favoin-  of  the  Paris  method — she  at- 
tends the  best  studios,  and  she  is  invited  to  the  Embassy, 
and  all ;  so  I  suppose  it  must  be  the  thing,  though  it  sounds 
very  queer.  Where  does  your  brother  take  lessons,  may  I 
ask  ? " 

"  We  are  waiting  until  we  are  a  little  more  settled  to  de- 
cide," said  Eila,  with  calm  assurance.  "  There  is  so  much 
to  see  to  and  to  do  just  at  first — so  many  new  impressions  to 
take  in." 

"  Quite  so,"  rejoined  Mi's.  Warden  blandly  ;  "  and  when 
you  ai'e  settled  you  will  be  gathering  a  little  cii*cle  of  friends 


208  NOT   COUNTING   TflE   COST. 

around  you.  The  great  thing-  is  to  get  in  with  the  best 
peoi)le  at  first.  You  don't  know  perhaps  that  the  Tomlin- 
sons  and  tlie  Miss  McCreadys,  and  quite  a  number  of  Aus- 
tralians and  Tasmanians,  are  staying  in  a  pension  in  the 
Rue  Marboeuf.  They  have  found  some  delightful  society 
there,  and  they  have  most  agreeable  reunions.  One  of  the 
gentlemen  was  secretary  to  Marshal  Bazaine.  Then  the 
Honourable  Mr.  and  Mrs.  de  Lisle  are  at  the  same  pension — 
they  go  to  all  the  receptions  at  the  Embassy,  you  know.. 
We  are  to  make  a  party  to  lunch  with  them  at  Robinson's 
to-morrow.  I've  never  been  there,  but  it  seems  it  is  quite 
the  thing  to  go  and  take  your  lunch  in  a  tree.  Now,  if  you 
and  your  sister  would  join  us  we  should  be  very  pleased. 
Then  you  must  stay  and  dine  with  us  at  the  Continental  in 
the  evening.  Perhaps  Marshal  Bazaine's  secretary  will 
honour  us  by  coming." 

Many  conflicting  thoughts  came  into  Eila's  mind  before 
she  replied  to  this  invitation.  Her  fu-st  impulse  was  to  de- 
nounce herself  as  an  impostor.  If  the  Tomlinsons,  the 
McCreadys,  and  the  Archdeacon's  sister — nay,  if  Mrs.  Warden 
herself — could  imagine  the  dii'e  straits  to  which  the  family 
was  reduced ;  if  they  could  have  been  told  that  the  very 
next  night  she  herself  was  pledged  to  appear  in  a  Bacchante 
costume  on  the  stage  of  a  low  music-hall  to  be  gazed  at  by  a 
ribald  crowd  !  If  they  could  have  known  that  she  was  on 
the  eve  of  selling  herself  to  gain  bread  for  her  family — for, 
after  all,  what  did  the  exhibition  of  her  personal  graces  on 
a  public  platform  amount  to  but  to  selling  herself  ? — where, 
then,  would  have  been  the  invitation  to  Robinson's  ?  Young 
Mrs.  Frost  passed  through  a  severe  mental  ordeal  at  this 
moment.  Like  the  peasant  in  ^sop's  Fables,  she  would 
have  liked  to  blow  hot  and  cold  at  the  same  time.  It  occa- 
sioned her  the  keenest  anguish  to  think  of  cutting  herself 
adrift  from  the  charmed  circle  to  which  Miss  Flyte-Smythe 
and  the  Archdeacon's  sister  belonged.  On  the  other  hand, 
how  could  she  sacrifice  the  only  chance  that  seemed  to  offer 
itself  of  improving  the  miserable  condition  of  the  family  ? 
Then,  as  long  as  the  Wardens  took  them  by  the  hand,  might 
there  not  still  be  a  chance  for  Mamy  ?     If  ever  her  roving 


BOHEMIA'S  VISITORS.  209 

fancy  was  capable  of  being  fixed,  should  it  not  be  during 
the  actual  crisis,  when  the  mere  difficulty  of  living  had  been 
brought  home  to  her  in  so  cruel  a  fashion  ?  There  could  be 
no  deceit  in  accepting  the  invitation  for  Mamy,  at  least, 
who,  indeed,  knew  nothing  of  the  degradation  to  which  her 
sister  was  about  to  subject  herself  of  her  own  free  will,  and 
who  never  should  know  it,  if  Eila  could  possibly  prevent  it. 

"  It  is  very  good  of  you,"  she  replied  at  last  to  Mrs. 
Warden  in  gi'ateful  tones.  "  I  can't  say  how  much  I  should 
like  to  go,  but  I  could  not  feel  easy  at  leaving  mother  for 
the  present.  Mamy,  I  am  sure,  will  think  it  a  great  treat. 
I  will  call  her  in  to  thank  you  herself." 

She  stepped  on  to  the  balcony,  where  Sydney  and  Mamy 
were  leaning  over  the  railing  side  by  side,  with  their  backs 
turned  to  her.  She  called  to  them  softly,  and  it  rejoiced  her 
heart  to  see  that,  as  they  turned  hastily  round,  there  was  a 
startled,  almost  guilty,  expression  in  the  eyes  of  both,  and 
that  their  cheeks  were  unmistakably  flushed. 

"  Mrs.  Warden  has  a  treat  in  store  for  you,  Mamy,"  she 
said,  in  unconsciously  elated  tones.  "  She  has  invited  you 
to  go  to  the  Bois  with  her  to-morrow,  and  to  picnic  in  a  tree 
at  Robinson's.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  anything  so  lovely  ? 
And  you  are  to  dine  with  them  at  the  Continental  after- 
wards, she  says." 

"  I  can't  go,"  protested  Mamy  in  a  vehement  undertone  ; 
"I've  nothing  to  wear." 

"  Not  go !  Nonsense !  You  must,  dear,"  said  Eila  with 
insistence.  Her  tone  was  playful,  but  there  was  a  hint  of 
almost  threatening  urgency  in  it  that  did  not  escape  Mamy's 
attention.  "Come  and  thank  Mrs.  Warden  yourself."  Then, 
as  the  younger  girl  pushed  irresolute  past  her,  she  whis- 
pered hurriedly  :  "  You  shan't  refuse — you  mustn't.  I'll  see 
that  you  are  decently  dressed,  I  promise  ;  but  say  yes,  what- 
ever you  do." 

And  Mamy  said  "  Yes,"  being  conscious  all  the  time  of  a 
desire  to  say  "  No." 

"  Then  we  may  look  for  you  at  eleven  to-morrow,  my 
dear  ? "  said  Mrs.  Warden  amiably,  after  Mamy  had  uttered 
her  timid  and  reluctant  acknowledgment  of  the  invitation. 


210  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

"You  haven't  seen  Eobinson's  yet,  noi*  we  either,  I'm 
ashamed  to  say.  I  will  send  your  sister  safely  back  to 
you  to-morrow  evening,"  she  added,  turning  to  Eila,  "so 
don't  be  uneasy  if  you  should  not  see  her  till  late." 

Nothing  could  have  fallen  out  better.  The  visitors  now 
took  their  leave,  and  Dick  conducted  them  gi*avely  to  tlie 
very  door  of  their  carriage,  and  put  them  in  with  as  digni- 
fied an  air  as  was  compatible  with  his  frayed  and  collarless 
Crimean  shirt  and  rough  knitted  ulster.  In  returning,  he 
bounded  up  the  staircase  four  steps  at  a  time,  and,  whether 
under  the  influence  of  some  pent-up  feeling  it  was  incum- 
bent on  him  to  work  off,  or  because  the  visit  had  produced 
an  emotion  not  translatable  in  words,  he  was  no  sooner 
within  the  shelter  of  the  apartment  than  he  tilted  himself 
on  his  head  like  an  acrobat  near  the  entrance-door,  and 
tapped  his  heels  against  the  panels. 

"  Good  gracious,  Dick  !  ai'e  you  out  of  your  senses  ? "  cried 
his  sister.     "  What  do  you  do  that  for  ? " 

"  That's  how  I'm  going  to  receive  Marshal  Bazaine's  sec- 
retary," said  Dick,  bestowing  a  kick  upon  the  panels. 

"  Get  up,  for  goodness'  sake.  How  can  you  be  such  an 
idiot?" 

"  And  the  Honourable  Mr.  and  Mrs.  de  Lisle,"  said  Dick, 
with  another  tapping  of  the  heels,  which  caused  him,  how- 
ever, this  time  to  lose  his  balance,  and  to  come  down  with  a 
full-length  flop  on  the  floor. 

"  Come  and  take  your  bouillon,"  said  Eila. 

She  had  donned  her  kitchen  apron  again,  and  was  filling 
the  plates  with  the  scalding  mess.  She  found  it  an  economy 
to  serve  the  soup  as  hot  as  possible.  It  seemed  to  make  it 
go  farther  and  last  longer.  A  hunk  of  bread  was  set  by 
each  plate.  The  family  would  have  liked  to  make  the  meal 
Jast  a  long  time  (though  it  was  certainly  an  unsatisfactory 
thing  to  begin  and  end  with  soup),  had  they  not  been  too 
hungry  to  brook  delay. 

Meantime  a  savoury  sweetbread,  browned  to  perfection, 
and  having  an  aroma  that  might  have  been  added  to  the 
list  of  appetizing  whiffs  that  tortured  the  unhappy  Tantalus, 
was  borne  past  the  hungry  diners  to  the  invalid's  room.    As 


BOHEMIA'S  VISITORS.  211 

Eila  carried  it  to  her  mothei^'s  bed  and  set  it  before  her,  Mrs. 
Clare  took  up  the  fork  eagerly,  then  let  it  drop. 

"  What  good  thing  have  you  brought  me  here,  my 
dear  ? " 

"  Sweetbread,  mother.  The  doctor  said  you  might  have 
some." 

"  I  won't  touch  it  unless  you  tell  me  what  you  have  had 
for  dinner.     What  meat  did  you  have  ? " 

"  Steak,"  said  her  daughter  in  a  low  voice.  "  We've  all 
eaten  as  much  as  we  can.  But  you  must  take  this  at  once. 
You  are  not  to  talk,  the  doctor  says,  only  to  eat  and  get 
strong." 

And  Mrs.  Clare  did  as  she  was  told,  and  her  children 
forgot  that  their  dinner  that  day  had  been  but  a  Barmecides' 
feast  after  all  in  their  joy  at  hearing  that  mother  had  eaten 
nearly  every  scrap  of  her  sweetbread.  The  precious  morsel 
that  was  left  would  have  been  given  by  common  accord  to 
Truca,  only  she  could  not  be  persuaded  to  take  it ;  and  it 
was  only  when  Eila,  losing  patience,  threatened  to  throw  it 
away  altogether,  that  Dick  rushed  forward  to  appropriate  it. 

Her  mother  having  dined,  Eila  was  free  to  give  all  her 
attention  to  the  important  question  of  Mamy's  dress  for  the 
morrow.  When  she  had  washed  the  soup-plates,  and  hung 
her  blue  apron  in  the  kitchen,  she  proceeded  to  overhaul  the 
trunks,  while  Mamy  stood  by  her  side,  lending  only  a  half- 
hearted acquiescence  to  the  operation. 

"  You  should  be  so  delighted  at  such  a  chance,"  Eila  said 
admonishingly,  as  she  knelt  before  the  trunk  in  which  she 
hoped  to  make  a  find.  "  I  think  it  was  wonderfully  kind  of 
Mrs.  Warden  to  ask  you.  And  just  look  here!  Mother's 
mantle  with  the  beads  will  be  the  very  thing  for  you  to 
wear.  I  don't  think  Mrs.  Warden  ever  saw  her  in  it.  And 
you  can  have  my  Hobart  gloves  and  boots — only  do  be  care- 
ful of  them  this  time.  And  your  black  merino  skirt  looks 
quite  decent  since  we  arranged  it.  The  body  is  all  to  pieces, 
but  I  can  lend  you  my  jersey  to  wear  with  it." 

"  But  I  haven't  got  a  parasol,"  said  Mamy  dejectedly. 

"  No  more  you  have.  That's  a  pity !  I  never  thought  of 
it,  either.     I  would  lend  you  my  umbrella,  but  it's  dread- 


212  NOT   COUNTING   THE  COST. 

fully  Mrs.  Gampish.  Never  mind  ;  it's  always  allowable  to 
forget  one's  parasol.  They  may  think  you  left  it  behind. 
And,  what's  more,  it's  sure  to  be  shady  if  you  lunch  in  a 
tree.  Let  me  see  what  you  look  like  in  this  mantle.  Mother 
won't  mind  lending  it  to  you  for  once." 

Eila  continued  to  chatter  on  while  Mamy  donned  the 
mantle. 

"  It's  too  fine  for  me,"  she  said,  shaking  her  head,  as  she 
tied  the  string  round  her  supple  waist,  and  turned  to  admire 
herself  in  the  long  mirror  with  juvenile  curves.  "  Why  are 
you  so  set  on  my  going  to-morrow,  Eila  ? "  she  continued. 
"  I  shall  only  be  miserably  uncomfortable  and  out  of  my 
element  all  day.  What  am  I  to  do  if  the  Rawlinsons  and 
McCreadys,  and  all  those  people  Mrs.  Warden  talked  about, 
were  to  ask  me  about  our  life  in  Paris,  and  offer  to  come 
and  call  upon  us  ?  " 

"Say  you'll  let  them  know  as  soon  as  we're  settled. 
We're  not  obliged  to  give  them  an  account  of  what  we  have 
for  dinner,  or  how  we  may  choose  to  live,  are  we  ?  " 

"  Of  how  we're  forced  to  live,"  interrupted  Mamy  dole- 
fully. 

"Only  for  a  little  time,  dear,"  said  Eila,  with  well- 
assumed  cheerfulness.  "  What  with  mother's  illness  and 
our  money  being  delayed,  we  have  had  to  go  through  rather 
a  rougher  time  than  we  reckoned  upon.  But  it  will  all 
come  right  in  the  end,  you'll  see.  Only  mind  you  try  and 
have  a  good  time  to-morrow  for  once ;  and  don't  go  refusing 
things  at  dinner  when  they're  handed  to  you.  It's  not  like 
being  at  a  Duval  to  dine  at  the  Continental,  you  know.  All 
the  courses  are  paid  for  beforehand,  so  just  make  the  most 
of  the  opportunity." 

Mamy  shook  her  head. 

"  I  couldn't,"  she  said  vehemently.  "  I  shall  be  thinking 
the  whole  time  of  all  of  you  at  home.  If  only  Dick  had 
been  invited  too  !  I  shall  feel  as  though  every  mouthful 
would  choke  me." 

"  Nonsense  ! "  said  Eila.  "  I  shall  never  forgive  you,  if 
you  don't  tell  me  when  you  come  home  that  you  '  reg'lar 
enjoyed '  your  dinner — like  the  woman  we  met  on  the  New- 


BOHEMIA'S  VISITORS.  213 

haven  steamer.  Don't  fret  about  things,  either.  It's  no 
use  ;  and  I  suppose  it  is  better  to  eat  one's  black  bread  first, 
after  all." 

She  sighed,  however,  as  she  made  the  admission,  kneel- 
ing before  the  trunk  filled  with  home  relies — the  flotsam 
and  jetsam  of  their  eai*ly  Cowa  possessions.  How  foolish 
they  looked  as  she  tumbled  them  out  on  the  smooth  floor  ! 
How  much  money  had  been  wasted  in  dragging  these  poor 
remnants  over  the  world  !  There  was  something  grotesque 
as  well  as  pathetic  in  their  aspect.  Flounces  and  soiled 
artificial  flowers  from  old  ball-dresses,  broken  fans  and  odd 
gloves,  the  remains  of  a  little  Neapolitan  costume  in  which 
Dick  had  achieved  his  one  social  success  in  his  childish  days 
at  a  juvenile  fancy  ball.  All  that  the  trunk  contained 
would  hardly  have  been  worth  the  trouble  of  carting  it 
away,  yet  how  many  happy  associations,  how  many  mo- 
ments of  careless,  unconscious  joy  in  living,  were  bound  up 
with  the  worthless  frippery.  Eila  bowed  her  head  to  pre- 
vent her  sister  from  seeing  the  tears  that  were  welling  into 
her  eyes.  What  demon  of  folly  could  have  prompted  her 
to  advocate  the  scheme  of  bringing  the  family  to  Europe — 
she  who  had  always  prided  herself  upon  her  prudence  ? 
Was  she  not  in  a  measure  responsible  for  reducing  her  loved 
ones  to  beggary  ? 

"I  suppose  it  is  better  to  eat  our  black  bread  first,"  she 
repeated  drearily  ;  "  but  oh,  Mamy,  when  one  thinks  what  a 
big  white  loaf  you  might  have  to  yourself  if  you  chose,  and 
what  slices  you  could  give  us  all  out  of  it !  Did  Sydney 
speak  to  you  again,  dear,  to-day,  on  the  balcony  ?  " 

"  He  spoke  to  me,  of  course,"  was  Mamy's  flippant  reply. 
"  He  said  he  thought  Paris  a  fine  place — much  too  fine  for 
the  little  monkeys  of  men  that  lived  in  it." 

"  Did  he  ?  How  absurd  !  But  I  don't  want  to  know  his 
opinion  about  Paris.  I  want  to  know  what  he  said  to  you 
particularly.     You  know  about  what " 

Mamy  reflected  for  a  moment. 

"He  said  nothing  about  f/iaf,  and  I  don't. want  him  to, 
either." 

"Not  want   him    to!"      Eila   looked   up   reproachfully. 


214:  NOT   COUNTING  THE  COST. 

"It's  no  use  telling  nie  you  care  about  mother  and  the  rest 
of  us,  Mamy.  If  you  did,  you  could  not  see  us  l^rought  to 
such  a  pass  and  not  be  anxious  to  help  us  out  of  it ;  when  it 
would  not  cost  you  more  trouble,  either,  than  to  raise  your 
little  finger." 

"It's  not  the  trouble  I'd  mind,"  said  Mamy  gravely, 
"and  you  know  quite  well  I  would  do  anything  in  the 
world  to  help  mother ;  but  this  is  different.  I  don't  believe 
you  know  how  I  feel  one  bit.  Supposing  you  were  free, 
would  you  marry  the  first  person,  no  matter  who,  so  long  as 
he  could  give  you  money  ? " 

"  No  matter  whom,"  said  Eila  solemnly,  though  with  ref- 
erence to  the  sentiment,  rather  than  the  grammatical  con- 
struction of  her  sister's  question,  "  I  would  try  to  make  him 
a  good  wife.  I  would  do  my  duty  by  him ;  but  I  would 
look  upon  my  whole  existence  as  a  sacrifice  made  to  the 
family.  I  would  try  to  crush  down  all  personal  feelings, 
and  to  find  my  happiness  in  putting  poor  mother  into  decent 
surroundings,  and  providing  for  you  and  the  others.  When 
people  are  as  poor  as  we  are,  Mamy,  as  absolutely,  abjectly 
poor,  they  are  forced  to  sacrifice  themselves  in  some  way  or 
other.  What  are  all  our  lives  now  but  one  perpetual  strain 
of  self-denial  ?  If,  by  making  no  greater  sacrifice  than  the 
little  one  of  not  marrying  for  love,  you  could  raise  yourself 
and  all  who  are  dear  to  you  out  of  the  mire,  you  should  con- 
sider yourself  a  most  wonderfully  fortunate  girl.  Look  at  the 
thousands  and  millions  of  girls  whose  husbands  are  chosen 
for  them  by  their  parents.  Look  at  the  princesses,  who  have 
no  voice  in  the  matter  at  all.  In  what  way  would  you  be 
worse  off  than  they  ?  and  why  should  you  be  so  selfish  as  to 
put  your  own  feelings  first,  and  to  consider  them  so  exclu- 
sively, when  one  might  almost  say  that  the  very  lives  of  the 
others  are  in  the  balance  ? " 

"  But  it's  not  myself  and  my  own  feelings  only  that  I'm 
considering,"  j^rotested  Mamy,  almost  whimpering.  "  You 
were  always  the  special  pleader,  Eila,  and  I  never  could 
make  black  look  white  as  you  can.  Still,  you  ought  to  un- 
derstand that  I  am  considering  the  man  I  would  have  to 
marry  quite  as  much  as  myself.    I  couldn't  help  hating  him, 


BOHEMIA'S   VISITORS.  215 

if  I  didn't  marry  him  for  love.  It's  no  use  pretending'  I 
should  make  him  a  good  wife,  for  I  shouldn't ;  I  feel  it  in 
my  heart.  I  should  make  him  the  worst  wife  in  the  world. 
The  fonder  he  was  of  me,  the  more  I  should  dislike  him." 

Eila  had  already  shaken  out  the  folds  of  the  black  merino 
skirt  carefully,  but  some  unacknowledged  irritation  induced 
by  Mamy's  words  caused  her  now  to  shake  it  again  more 
vigorously.  When  next  she  spoke  she  made  a  visible  effort 
to  control  herself. 

"  How  like  a  romantic  little  schoolgirl  you  do  talk  some- 
times !  What  do  you  know  about  the  way  in  which  you 
would  feel  towards  a  husband  until  you  try,  I  should  like  to 
know  !  Nothing  would  make  me  believe  that  you  have  such 
a  cold,  ungrateful  nature  as  you  want  to  make  out.  Why 
should  you  think  you  would  dislike  a  person  all  the  more 
for  being  fond  of  you  ?  On  the  contrary,  you  would  be 
grateful  first,  and  then  affection  would  come,  and  then  love. 
Besides,  when  you  are  a  little  older,  Mamy,  you  will  under- 
stand that  marrying  for  love  signifies  nothing  at  all.  You 
must  know  how  many  cases  there  are  of  people  who  love 
each  other  passionately  at  first,  and  who  quite  turn  against 
each  other  at  the  end  of  a  few  years,  or  who  get  tired  out  of 
each  other's  society  in  the  course  of  time.  People  can  never 
really  tell  whether  they  suit  each  other  or  not  until  they 
come  to  live  together ;  and  often  the  very  ones  who  seem  the 
least  suited  to  each  other  in  the  beginning  hit  it  the  best  in 
the  long-run.  If  your  whole  heart  were  set  upon  another 
man  to  whom  you  were  already  engaged,  I  would  not  advise 
you  as  I  do ;  but  see  how  many  times  you  have  had  fancies 
for  different  people  already.  That  shows  how  little  impor- 
tance you  need  attach  to  your  feelings.  You  may  believe 
me  that  they  will  never  ideally  be  fixed  for  good  at  all  until 
you  are  a  wife.  Then,  it  is  not  as  though  I  were  asking  you 
to  make  any  pretence,  either.  If  Sydney  still  wants  you  to 
marry  him,  with  the  full  knowledge  that  you  are  not  in  love 
with  him,  it  is  because  he  is  sure  of  being  able  to  win  your 
heart  in  the  end." 

Mamy  had  listened  somewhat  abstractedly  to  her  sister's 
argument,  and  her  next  observation  seemed  to  show  that  she 


216  NOT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

had  been  ratlier  following  out  a  mental  speculation  of  her 
own  than  attending-  to  it  closely. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said  slowly,  finding  her  words  with 
effort,  "  whether,  if  a  man  persists  in  wanting  a  girl  to  marry 
him  after  she  has  told  him  she  can't  care  for  him,  and  she 
married  him  in  the  end,  whether  he  or  she  is  the  most  to 
blame  if  they  are  unhappy  afterwards." 

"  It  depends  upon  how  the  woman  behaves  after  they  are 
man  and  wife,  I  should  think,"  said  Eila.  "For  if  she  con- 
sents to  marry  him  at  all,  she  should  at  least  intend  to  try 
and  make  the  best  of  him.  .  .  .  But,  talking  of  Sydney,  you 
used  to  be  rather  fond  of  him  at  one  time,  Mamy— don't  you 
remember  ? " 

"  When  I  was  quite  young,  perhaps,"  said  Mamy  with  a 
sigh ;  "  but  there  were  other  boys  I  liked  better  afterwards ; 
and  as  soon  as  Sydney  wanted  me  to  marry  him  in  earnest, 
I  felt  I  did  not  care  for  him  in  that  way  at  all.  Besides, 
only  think  of  what  Mrs.  Warden  would  say !  She  would  be 
horribly  disgusted ! " 

Mamy  emphasized  the  "  horribly  "  with  pathetic  earnest- 
ness, and  Eila  paused  in  smoothing  out  the  pleats  of  the 
black  merino  skirt,  while  a  little  flush  mounted  in  her 
cheeks. 

"  You  are  shifting  your  ground  now,  Mamy.  Mrs.  War- 
den is  a  worldly  woman,  but  she  cares  to  see  her  children 
happy  first  of  all." 

"  She  cares  more  to  have  them  make  grand  marriages," 
interposed  Mamy,  nodding  her  head  with  an  air  of  wisdom  ; 
"  and,  after  all,  I  think  I  could  understand  her  being  a  little 
disgusted,  too,  at  my  marrying  Sydney.  What  would  he 
gain  in  return  for  giving  his  heart — to  say  nothing  of  his 
money — but  a  pauper  wife  who  wouldn't  care  for  him,  taken 
out  of  a  pauper  family  ?  " 

"  He  would  gain  the  wife  he  cares  to  have,  and  that  is  all 
that  really  matters,"  said  Eila  warmly.  "You  need  not  in- 
sult us  by  calling  us  a  pauper  family,  either,  Mamy.  We 
are  not  paupers  as  long  as  we  don't  ask  for  charity." 

"  Wliat  else  do  you  want  me  to  marry  Sydney  for,  then  ? " 
said  Mamy  bluntly. 


BOHEMIA'S  VISITORS.  217 

Eila's  cheeks  glowed  a  deeper  red. 

"  We  won't  discuss  the  matter  any  more,"  she  answered 
loftily.  "  You  take  everji;hing  I  say  in  a  wrong  sense.  If 
you  were  Sydney's  wife,  you  would  be  entitled  to  a  share  of 
all  he  possesses.  There  would  be  no  question  of  charity  in 
that ;  and  tlie  fact  of  your  being  rich  and  having  influence 
would  enable  you  to  open  all  kinds  of  careers  to  the  others 
that  are  hopelessly  closed  to  them  now.  It  would  not  be 
charity  to  have  Truca  to  stay- with  you  sometimes,  I  suppose  ? 
nor  to  put  Dick  in  the  way  of  earning  his  bread  ? " 

"  It  is  strange  that  Mrs.  Warden  doesn't  seem  to  have 
any  idea  that  Sydney  cares  about  me,"  observed  Mamy  re- 
flectively. She  had  ignored  Eila's  indignant  refutation  of 
the  charge  of  being  a  pauper.  "  As  for  his  marrying  me,  I 
don't  believe  she  would  let  him,  if  it  came  to  the  point." 

"She  couldn't  help  herself,"  cried  her  sister  eagerly. 
She  thought  she  divined  a  faint  indication  of  wavering  in 
Mamy's  last  words.  ''  Sydney  has  more  power  than  you 
think.  Mrs.  Warden  only  has  a  part  of  the  revenue  of  his 
fortune  and  Lucy's  to  spend  in  her  lifetime.  She  can't 
really  interfere  in  the  marriage  of  either.  I  think  you  are  a 
little  unjust  to  her,  too,  Mamy.  I  am  sure  slie  would  be 
very  fond  of  you  as  a  daughter-in-law,  once  there  was  no 
helj)  for  it.  Why  should  she  have  come  all  the  way  here 
to-day  just  to  invite  you  to  Robinson's  to-morrow  ? " 

"  She  invited  us  all.  She  would  leave  Paris  to-night  if 
she  thought  such  a  fearful  catastrophe  as  the  one  you  want 
to  bring  about  could  overtake  her.  What  a  cruel  way  of 
repaying  her,  too,  it  would  be !  She  would  be  like  the  en- 
gineer 'hoist  with  his  own  petard.'  " 

Mamy  was  pleased  to  air  this  grown-up  metaphor,  which 
she  had  only  chanced  upon  the  day  before  ;  but  Eila  was 
thinking  more  of  what  her  words  implied  than  her  choice  of 
them.  If  it  were  really  possible  for  her  to  bring  about  what 
Mamy  called  the  "  catastrophe  "  of  her  engagement  to  Syd- 
ney Warden,  what  a  joy  and  triumph  it  would  be !  She 
told  herself  that  she  would  move  heaven  and  earth  to  pro- 
cure so  blessed  a  consummation. 

"Though  I  don't  suppose  it  would  be  heaven  I  should 


218  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

move  in  the  matter,"  she  reflected  grimly  ;  "they  say  mar- 
riages are  made  there,  but  I  am  afraid  this  one  would  not 
be  recognised.  Am  I  doing  wrong,  I  wonder,  in  urging  the 
match  upon  Mamy  against  her  will  ?  I  am  acting  in  the 
full  trust  that  it  will  be  for  her  ultimate  happiness.  If  we 
could  only  see  ahead  ever  such  a  little  way — just  far  enough 
to  enable  us  to  foresee  the  result  of  our  actions  and  com- 
binations before  their  consequences  are  quite  irretrievable ! 
But  what  is  life,  after  all,  but  a  groping  in  the  dark  ?  Even 
the  next  hour  is  hidden  behind  a  black  veil.  I  can  see  no 
farther  now  than  that  we  have  fallen  into  a  kind  of  quag- 
mire of  discomfort  and  misery,  and  that  Sydney's  arm  is 
stretched  forth  to  pull  us  out  of  it.  If  Mamy  were  rescued, 
the  rest  would  be  saved  too.  And  what  is  the  sacrifice  de- 
manded of  her  ?  Only  to  let  herself  be  loved  and  adored  by 
a  worthy,  honourable,  jjure-minded  young  fellow,  soimd  in 
mind  and  body,  who  would  give  her  all  that  makes  life 
worth  living.  I  don't  believe  there  is  any  sentiment  in  the 
world  that  can  make  up  for  the  want  of  a  dinner  and  a  bed. 
What  miracle  does  Mamy  expect  to  happen,  I  should  like  to 
know  ?  Does  she  think  a  Prince  Charming  is  going  to  climb 
into  this  miserable  apartment  on  piu'pose  to  look  for  her  ? 
There  is  much  more  danger,  so  pretty  and  young  and  light- 
minded  as  she  is,  that  some  handsome  adventurer  will  take 
her  fancy,  and  make  utter  shipwreck  of  her  life.  Even  if 
we  were  not  as  wretched  as  we  are — even  if  the  family  had 
not  to  be  considered  at  all— I  should  still  consider  it  my 
duty  to  persuade  her  to  listen  to  reason.  Marriage  is  her 
only  port  of  refuge — I  see  that  clearly.  I  should  feel  her  to 
be  safely  anchored  if  she  were  Sydney  Warden's  wife." 

Thus  Eila  mused,  while  apparently  engrossed  in  the  ar- 
rangement of  Mamy's  apparel  for  the  morrow.  For  the 
latter  part  of  her  task,  she  was  ami)ly  rewarded  by  her 
sister's  appeai-ance  next  morning  as  she  tripped  into  her 
mother's  room  to  bestow  a  good-bye  kiss  upon  the  invalid's 
sallow  cheeks  before  taking  herself  off  for  the  day. 

Wonderful  is  the  elasticity  of  youth  !  The  morning  was 
soft  and  balmy ;  a  faint  mist  rested  upon  the  half-stripped 
bi'anches  of  the  trees  in  the  Observatoire  Gardens,  while 


BOHEMIA'S  VISITORS.  219 

the  dome  of  tlie  lofty  sky  overhead  sliowed  a  smooth  ex- 
panse of  turquoise  bhie.  There  was  a  promise  of  an  ex- 
quisite day  in  tlie  prospect  from  the  little  balcony  outside, 
and  Mamy's  face  was  a  radiant  reflection  of  the  same. 

"  Will  I  do  in  my  borrowed  plumes  ? "  she  called  out,  in 
tones  of  tremulous  excitement,  as  Eila  hurried  from  the 
kitchen  in  her  blue  check  apron,  carrying  the  cofiPee-pot  in 
her  hand. 

"Do!  It  is  a  perfect  get-up!  It  is  epatanf,  as  the  con- 
cierge says.  You  might  be  a  princess.  Listen  to  me, 
Mamy,"  solemnly;  "you  must  always  wear  black  when 
you  want  to  look  your  best." 

"And  jingly  things,"  said  Mamy,  surveying  the  bead 
fi'inge  of  her  mother's  mantle  with  naive  admiration. 

"And  a  little  sailor  hat  like  that,"  continued  her  sister. 
"  Dick  is  going  to  walk  with  you  as  far  as  the  Continental. 
You  will  go  down  the  Rue  de  Seine,  past  the  brocanteiw's, 
you  know." 

"  I  don't  want  Dick,"  said  Mamy  quickly.  "  I  know  the 
way  quite  well  by  myself." 

"  Dick  is  going  with  you,  all  the  same."  There  might  be 
detected  occasionally  a  note  of  calm  decision  in  Eila's  soft 
tones  that  spoke  of  a  hidden,  inflexible  will.  "  He  is  put- 
ting on  his  boots.  Good-bye,  dear ; "  and  she  bestowed  a 
warm  kiss  on  Mamy's  pouting  lips;  then,  in  a  hurried 
whisper :  "  And  have  a  little  pity  on  us  all,  pray." 

"You  haven't  any  pity  on  me,"  protested  Mamy,  her 
bright  blue  eyes  suddenly  suffused. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  she  was  like  a  lamb  led  to  the 
slaughter;  but  there  was  nothing  in  her  air  that  would 
liave  suggested  a  sacrificial  lamb,  save  the  skip  of  joyous 
anticipation  with  which  she  pi'epared  to  descend  the  staii'- 
case  in  her  brother's  wake. 

In  a  world  where,  as  Eila  had  reflected,  even  the  com- 
ing hour  is  hidden  behind  a  black  veil,  the  best  philosophy 
is  to  make  the  most  of  every  passing  minute.  Now,  the 
minutes  this  morning  were  fraught  for  Mamy  not  only 
with  joyous  expectation,  but  with  actual  and  positive  de- 
light. Every  step  down  the  Boulevard  St.  Michel  by  Dick's 
15 


220  NOT  COUNTING   THE   COST, 

side  was  a  joy  in  itself ;  the  air  was  so  bright  that  she  could 
have  danced  instead  of  walking.  Her  insufficient  diet  had 
had  no  other  effect,  so  far,  than  that  of  making  her  feel  like 
a  young  racehorse  in  training.  Her  sedate  and  seemingly 
pomi^ous  attire  formed  a  quaint  contrast  to  the  round  and 
childlike  face,  fair  and  delicate  as  a  painted  Greuze.  To 
look  beyond  the  next  few  hours  would  have  been  a  work  of 
supererogation.  Was  there  not  a  long  drive  in  the  Bois 
awaiting  her,  and  a  lunch  in  the  open  air  up  a  tree  (was 
ever  such  a  delightful  notion  heard  of  out  of  Tasmania  ?), 
and,  superlative  treat  of  all,  a  dinner  at  the  table  dliote  of 
the  Continental  ?  With  such  a  prospect  in  store,  life  was 
indeed  a  boon,  and  Paris  was  the  place  to  enjoy  it  in. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

EILA   PREPARES   FOR  THE   SACRIFICE. 

How  the  long  day  of  Mamy's  absence  wore  away  Eila 
did  not  rightly  know.  She  was  only  conscious  that  thei'e 
was  little  repose  for  her  in  it,  either  of  body  or  of  mind. 
While  she  was  carrying  on  such  household  duties  as  could 
still  be  performed  in  a  home  that  was  well-nigh  stripped  of 
all  that  rendered  it  deserving  of  the  name,  her  thoughts 
were  fixed  upon  the  ordeal  that  awaited  her  in  the  evening. 
As  the  afternoon  dragged  on,  she  found  herself  trembling 
under  the  influence  of  a  strange  feverish  excitement  that 
nothing  would  allay.  A  sudden  spasm  of  realization  of  the 
thing  that  was  to  come,  such  as  a  criminal  condemned  to 
the  gallows  might  experience,  overcame  her  at  unexpected 
moments,  when  the  whole  scene  of  a  few  hours  hence  would 
shape  itself  vividly  before  her  imagination.  The  building, 
the  people,  and  the  lights  made  a  horrid  impressionist  pic- 
ture that  thrust  itself  on  her  consciousness  by  anticipation. 
She  could  see  herself  advancing  slowly  to  her  seat  upon  the 
stage  in  her  Bacchante  dress,  her  flowing  hair  crowned  with 
a  garland  of  fabricated  wild  vine-leaves,  the  leopard-skin 


EILA  PREPARES  FOR  THE  SACRIFICE.  221 

that  encircled  her  body  partly  opened  to  display  her  shapely 
knee.  Thousands  of  eyes  like  burning  glasses  directed  at 
her,  through  which  the  hot  rays  would  travel  over  her  per- 
son and  scorch  and  wither  it  up  !  How  should  she  bear 
these  glances  and  not  cover  her  face  with  her  hands  as 
before  a  blast  from  a  furnace  ?  Would  she  have  the  forti- 
tude to  remember  that  Famine  was  knocking  at  the  door  of 
the  apartment,  and  that  his  skeleton  form  was  moi*e  dread- 
ful to  encounter  than  her  own  reflection  in  the  glass  clothed 
in  a  leopard-skin  ?  She  had  found  among  the  battered  vol- 
umes that  Dick  flung  about  on  the  floor  of  his  room  an  early 
volume  of  Punch,  with  a  caricature  of  Father  Thames  in 
the  days  of  his  pollution,  presenting  his  offspring  to  the  fair 
city  of  London.  There  was  a  ghastly  suggestion  of  Truca's 
face  in  the  i^resentment  of  the  youngest  member  of  the  ter- 
rifying trio,  which  never  failed  to  make  Eila  feel  that  the 
martyrdom  she  had  imposed  on  herself  in  Truca's  behalf 
was  but  a  light  one  after  all.  To  give  herself  courage,  she 
studied  the  caricature  at  odd  moments  in  the  day.  She  also 
tried  to  divert  her  mind  by  speculating  upon  the  possible 
result  of  the  day's  expedition  with  the  Wardens.  If  Mamy 
would  only  be  wise  and  good  (our  use  of  these  terms  is  for 
the  most  part  purely  subjective),  her  own  sacrifice  might 
prove  unnecessary.  But  it  was  too  late  to  turn  back.  As 
the  French  proverb  said  :  "  The  wine  was  drawn,  and  it  must 
now  be  drunk ! "  Bitter  as  was  its  flavour,  she  would  drain 
it  to  the  dregs.  She  had  put  her  hand  to  the  plough,  or, 
rather,  she  had  stretched  it  forth  for  the  martyr's  palm,  and 
she  would  not  draAV  it  back.  In  any  case,  it  was  too  late  to 
save  herself,  since  by  breaking  her  engagement  she  would 
only  succeed  in  aggravating  the  family  distress.  Even 
should  Mamy  be  reasonable,  Mrs.  Warden  might  be  less  easy 
to  convince  than  Eila  herself  had  been  willing  to  believe ; 
and  in  any  case  the  marriage  could  not  take  place  for  some 
time  to  come.  With  reflections  of  this  nature,  our  heroine 
strove  to  arm  herself  for  the  evening's  ordeal.  She  thought 
of  Sainte  Blandine,  an  early  Christian  saint,  mart>Ted  many 
centuries  ago  by  being  placed  in  a  red-hot  chair,  whereby 
her  fair  young  flesh  was  frizzled  living  upon  her  bones. 


222  NOT   COUNTING   THE   COST. 

"And  she  suffered  this  for  Christianity,"  said  Eila  to 
herself.  "  Surely  I  care  for  my  family  as  much  as  Sainte 
Blandine  could  have  cared  for  an  abstract  idea !  and  there 
is  no  red-hot  chair — no  positive  physical  suffering  of  any 
kind,  indeed — awaiting  me.  I  have  nothing  to  say,  notliing 
to  do,  only  to  sit  still  and  let  myself  be  stared  at,  and  to  try 
and  keep  my  thoughts  fixed  uj)on  the  possible  joy  of  gaining 
eighty  pounds  to  save  my  dear  ones  from  starving." 

It  drew  to  a  close  at  last — the  long  and  weary  day.  Mrs. 
Clare  had  been  assisted  out  of  bed  in  the  afternoon,  and  had 
spent  two  hours  by  the  window  lying  back  in  a  cane  arm-chair, 
hired  from  the  furniture  dealer  on  the  boulevard,  upon  the  un- 
derstanding that  it  should  be  paid  for  in  English  lessons  to 
the  dealer's  daughter,  a  demoiselle  de  magazin  in  the  Rue  de 
la  Paix,  by  young  Mi'S.  Frost.  Mrs.  Clare  had  been  eager  to 
hear  all  the  details  of  Mrs.  Warden's  visit,  and  had  listened 
to  them  with  a  kind  of  bitter-sweet  satisfaction  depicted  in 
her  countenance.  For  the  twentieth  time  she  had  reminded 
her  children  of  that  ej)Och  before  they  were  born,  when  it 
had  been  considered  a  condescension  on  their  mother's  part 
to  invite  Miss  Lydia  Simpson  into  the  parlour  of  the  Davey 
Street  house  wherein  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clare,  recently  arrived 
in  Hobart,  had  taken  their  first  lodgings. 

"  Mrs.  Simpson  was  a  most  vulgar-looking  person,  my 
dears,  and  there  were  some  very  queer  stories  connected  with 
her  coming  to  Hobart.  As  for  Mrs.  Warden,  she  never 
looks  a  lady,  wdiatever  she  may  put  on."  Eila  had  been  giv- 
ing her  mother  a  detailed  description  of  a  blue  fox  boa  worn 
by  their  visitor  the  day  before.  "  There  is  something  essen- 
tially commonplace  in  her  appearance." 

"  It  was  kind  of  her  to  think  of  coming,  anyhow,"  said 
Eila  deprecatingly ;  "and  really,  mother,  you  would  have 
admitted  that'Lucy  looked  charming  at  least." 

"  Don't  talk  to  me  of  Lucy ! "  rei:)lied  Mrs.  Clare  impa- 
tiently. "  She's  all  very  well  in  hei'  fashionable  clothes,  I 
dare  say ;  but  I  should  like  to  know  where  Lucy  would  be 
without  them — tell  me  that  if  you  can.  Not  that  it's  to  be 
wondered  at,  either ;  for  of  all  the  bad  figures  I  ever  saw, 
Mrs.  Warden's  is  one  of  the  worst." 


EILA   PREPARES  FOR  THE  SACRIFICE.  223 

"She  hasn't  much  figure,"  Eila  allowed — her  mother  was 
in  the  stage  of  convalescence  which  requires  humouring — 
''  but  she  has  a  kiiid  heart.  She  seemed  really  anxious  about 
you  yesterday  when  I  told  her  how  ill  you  had  been." 

"  Well,  if  she  has  any  memory  at  all,  she  must  remember 
that  she  has  good  cause  to  be  grateful  for  what  I  did  for  her 
in  the  past.  I  remember  when  Mr.  Warden  first  came  to 
stay  in  the  Davey  Street  house  where  we  were  lodging.  We 
were  very  particular — at  least,  I  was — about  the  acquaint- 
ances we  made  in  a  colony  in  those  days,  and  we  did  not  ask 
him  into  the  parlour  in  the  beginning.  But  would  you  be- 
lieve ?  He  would  be  found  sitting  on  the  staircase  outside 
whenever  I  was  playing  or  smging  at  the  piano.  Nothing 
could  drag  him  away ;  and  Miss  Simpson — Mrs.  Warden  now 
— who  was  a  buxom-looking  girl  with  a  false  chignon,  would 
seize  the  opportunity  to  go  up  and  down  stairs  upon  all 
kinds  of  pretexts,  until  the  poor  young  man  was  inveigled 
into  proposing  to  her.  He  came  to  ask  me  what  I  thought 
of  it  first,  and  if  I  had  discountenanced  it,  Lydia  Simpson 
would  never  have  been  Mrs.  Warden  to-day.  But  I  dare  say 
she  finds  it  convenient  to  forget  those  times  now." 

"  I  suppose  Mr.  Warden  was  something  like  Sydney  is 
to-day,"  said  Eila. 

"  Just  the  same  tliick-set,  awkward-looking  youth — such 
a  contrast  to  your  poor  father,  my  dear  !  " 

"Yes;  I  know  our  father  must  have  been  handsome," 
said  Eila.  "So  many  people  have  told  me  so;  and,  then,  I 
can  just  remember  what  he  was  like  myself." 

"Ay,  that  is  one  thing  no  one  can  rob  you  of,"  observed 
Mrs.  Clare  proudly,  "  your  heritage  of  good  looks.  It  is  cu- 
rious that,  though  I  was  married  first,  you  were  not  born 
until  Lucy  was  three  or  foiu'  years  old.  A  plain  little  crea- 
ture she  was,  too,  with  quite  an  old  face.  But  you  get  your 
looks  on  both  sides,  one  may  say,  though  Mamy  is  the  only 
one  who  has  her  father's  skin." 

In  talk  of  this  kind  did  Eila  beguile  the  invalid's  hours 
by  the  open  window  of  the  bare  reception-room  through  the 
long  afternoon.  Conversation  upon  the  present  and  future 
was  avoided.     There  seemed  to  be  so  little  to  look  forward 


224  NOT  COUNTING   THE   COST. 

to,  and  a  review  of  the  actual  condition  would  have  been 
more  depressing-  still.  Under  these  circumstances  it  was 
advisable  to  fall  back  upon  a  long-vanished  past.  Involun- 
tarily Eila  was  driven  at  this  time  to  study  certain  aspects 
of  her  mother's  character.  It  was  evident  that  the  lower  the 
present  declined,  the  more  the  past  became  magnified.  Mrs. 
Clare  had  always  been  proud  of  her  orig-in  and  early  associ- 
ations, but  now  she  glorified  herself  in  them  to  an  extent 
unheard  of  before.  To  .judge  by  her  present  impressions, 
there  had  never  been  such  a  commingling  of  blue  blood  and 
lordly  descent  as  in  the  alliance  between  the  De  Merles  and 
her  father's  family  of  the  Wiltons.  Of  Mr.  Clare  less  was 
said,  the  existence  of  Uncle  William  and  the  half-boxes  of 
candles  being  impossible  to  ignore.  On  the  other  haiid,  the 
Chevalier  was  raised  to  an  elevated  perch  in  tlie  genealogical 
tree. 

The  disappearance  of  Hubert  de  Merle,  whom  Mrs.  Clare 
had  come  across  the  world  to  discover,  was  not  often  alluded 
to  by  her  children.  They  felt  that  this  must  be  a  peculiarly 
sore  point  with  their  mother,  and  Eila's  discovery  that  their 
cousin  had  possibly  been  in  Australia  while  they  were 
coming  away  in  search  of  him  was  the  last  drop  of  bitter- 
ness added  to  the  already  overflowing  cup  of  their  dis- 
appointment. 

The  young  Clares,  moreover,  were  tender  of  their  mother 
— tender  of  her  weakness  as  of  all  that  belonged  to  her ;  and 
even  though  their  faith  had  become  a  little  shaken  in  the 
royal  antecedents  of  the  Begum,  they  liked  to  have  their 
imaginations  stimulated  by  the  ever-fascinating  tale  of  her 
early  adventures  in  the  land  of  her  adoption. 

The  days  closed  in  earlier  now.  It  was  soon  after  six 
when  the  sun  went  down  in  a  blaze  of  crimson  and  gold 
behind  the  soft  lilac  haze  that  shrouded  the  trees  over 
the  way. 

When  Eila  had  put  her  mother  to  bed,  and  given  Truca 
her  tea,  she  left  Dick  in  charge,  and  prepared  to  go  out  upon 
her  dread  mission.  She  had  found  the  pretext  of  a  lesson 
to  be  given  to  the  furniture  dealer's  daiighter,  adding  that 
she  had  half  arranged  with  her  pupil  to  go  to  a  late  choral 


EILA  PREPARES  FOR  THE  SACRIFICE.  225 

service  at  St.  Roch's ;  and  never  had  she  been  more  inclined 
to  rejoice  at  her  few  years  of  seniority  over  Dick,  which 
enabled  her  to  put  her  foot  upon  his  well-meant  attempts  at 
brotherly  surveillance. 

"You  have  enough  to  do  in  looking  after  Mamy,"  she 
said,  in  answer  to  his  offer  of  accompanying  her  down  the 
boulevard.  "  Don't  trouble  your  head  about  me,  Dick. 
Even  in  Paris  a  married  woman  is  supposed  to  be  able  to 
take  care  of  herself." 

Nevertheless,  her  heart  stood  still  as  she  walked  past  the 
man-concierge,  who  was  smoking  his  pipe  at  the  entrance  to 
the  porte-cochere^  and  who  nodded  at  her,  as  she  thought, 
with  an  insolent  air,  as  though  he  had  divined  the  object 
of  her  expedition.  She  pretended  not  to  notice  him,  and 
walked  stiffly  by  with  her  head  erect,  out  upon  the  boulevard. 
Here  she  found  herself  in  the  midst  of  noise  and  turmoil. 
The  clamorous  orchestra  of  the  Bal  Bullier,  towards  which 
students  and  grisettes  were  hurrying,  was  distinctly  audible, 
playing  a  wild  waltz  from  the  "  Mousquetaires  au  Couvent." 
The  lovely  evening  air  was  full  of  cigar-smoke  and  whiffs 
from  patchouli  and  powder  scented  grisettes.  Eila  had  con- 
cealed her  face  entirely  in  her  board-ship  veil,  and  covered 
her  house-frock  with  a  long  ulster  that  was  beginning  to 
look  sadly  shabby  in  the  day-time.  Experience  had  taught 
her  that  it  was  wise  to  dissimulate  the  outward  graces  of  her 
person  on  the  Boulevard  St.  Michel. 

She  reached  the  Odeon  unmolested,  and  clambering  on 
the  top  of  the  huge  omnibus  waiting  outside,  took  her  seat  on 
the  farthest  corner  of  the  bench  at  right  angles  to  the  driver. 
The  moon  was  rising  in  the  night  sky,  and  Eila  thought  of 
her  childish  contests  with  Dick  on  the  score  of  its  size  as  she 
drove  solitary  through  the  brilliant  heart  of  Paris.  The 
blinds  against  the  windows  of  the  entresols  through  which 
she  had  looked  the  other  day  were  not  all  drawn,  and  occa- 
sionally she  had  a  glimpse  of  a  family  seated  at  a  round 
table  at  their  evening  meal.  So  small  was  the  space,  so  low 
the  ceilings,  it  almost  looked  as  though  they  were  living  in 
a  box.  The  river  looked  more  beautiful  than  ever  this 
evening,  with  the  long  spiral  reflections  from  the  lamps  that 


226  NOT  COUNTING   THE   COST. 

lined  its  shores  trembling  in  its  depths,  and  the  red,  green, 
and  golden  lights  of  the  small  river  steamers  darting  hither 
and  thither  in  the  gloom.  The  Place  du  Carrousel  looked 
fantastically  lovely,  with  its  triumphal  arch  and  mighty 
Louvre  Palace  illumined  by  the  heaven-high  si^lendour  of 
the  Jablokoff  electricity.  Yet  all  the  time  Eila  felt  as 
though  this  beautiful  night  aspect  of  Paris  were  nothing 
but  an  imaginary  and  fanciful  background  to  a  weird  and 
troubled  dream,  out  of  which  she  woul  d  presently  wake  to 
find  herself  leaning  over  the  veranda  at  Cowa,  watching  the 
moon  rise  over  the  harbour.  She  had  reached,  in  a  measm-e, 
the  state  of  feeling  which  all  who  sacrifice  themselves  heart 
and  soul  for  a  cause,  Buddhists  as  well  as  Christians,  enthu- 
siasts of  all  creeds  and  all  colom'S,  seek  to  attain.  She  was 
fast  losing  the  oppressive  consciousness  of  her  own  person- 
ality. Her  identity  was  becoming  merged  into  her  idea.  If 
she  could  have  maintained  this  feeling,  Galatea  in  her 
marble  coldness  could  not  have  shown  herself  more  indif- 
ferent to  the  ardent  glances  of  her  sculptor-lover  than  she 
to  the  gaze  of  the  crowd  that  awaited  her.  But  the  dread- 
ful conviction  that  "life  is  real  and  life  is  earnest"  came 
back  to  her  with  a  tightening  of  her  heart-strings  as  she  de- 
scended from  the  omnibus  and  made  her  way  with  knees 
that  trembled  under  her  towards  the  Folies-Fantassin,  along 
the  ascending  street,  to  where  she  saw  the  name  of  her  tor- 
ture-chamber picked  out  in  flaming  gas  letters  against  the 
impalpable  background  of  the  night. 

The  sight  of  her  actual  goal  did  not  make  her  pause  for 
an  instant.  Before  her  mental  vision  this  evening  there 
rose  a  spectre  that  beckoned  her  on.  She  must  keep  her 
mother  out  of  the  hospital  and  her  sisters  and  brothers  from 
the  streets,  at  whatever  cost.  Also,  she  must  keep  her 
thoughts  from  reverting  to  the  ghastly  little  bottle  in  dark- 
blue  glass,  with  octagonal  sides,  that  the  Hobart  chemist 
had  given  her.  She  had  allowed  her  imagination  to  wander 
to  the  poisoned  phial  more  than  was  wise  during  the  long 
night  hours  she  had  spent  by  her  mother's  bedside.  Better 
be  blotted  out  of  existence,  it  had  seemed  to  her  sometimes, 
than  continue  to  live  upon  such  terms  as  these.     What  was 


EILA  PREPARES  FOR  THE  SACRIFICE.  227 

life  wortli,  unless  for  the  satisfaction  of  the  senses  with 
which  we  aiipi-ehend  it  ?  When  it  was  merely  an  instru- 
ment for  the  torturing  of  these,  what  resource  was  left  but 
to  escape  from  it  ?  Even  if,  as  the  Buddhists  said,  we  were 
chained  indefinitely  to  the  wheel  of  existence,  it  was  more 
tlian  likely  that  the  individualities  with  which  we  were  ac- 
tually burdened  would  come  to  an  end  with  our  lives  upon 
this  earth.  And  what  mattered  most  at  present  was  that 
Truca,  and  Mamy,  and  all  of  them,  should  cease  to  be  tor- 
mented in  their  existing  forms.  Eila,  I  fear,  was  destitute 
of  the  quality  known  as  moral  courage  ;  but,  then,  she  had 
no  foundation  to  rest  it  upon.  The  smallest  spark  of  faith 
would  have  been  more  sustaining  in  such  a  plight  as  hers 
than  all  the  philosophical  reasoning  in  the  world.  But  faith 
is  no  more  to  be  got  for  the  asking  than  any  other  desirable 
possession  we  may  covet.  It  is  confined,  indeed,  to  a  very 
limited  number  of  minds.  For  the  faith  of  a  large  propor- 
tion of  the  human  race,  in  Ceylon  and  elsewhere,  which 
holds  that  existence  is  a  bad  business  on  the  whole,  and  that  the 
sooner  we  free  ourselves  of  it  the  better,  is  hardly  deserving 
of  the  name.  Neither  is  the  faith  that  foreshadows  stagnant 
beatitude  or  perpetual  misery  for  the  whole  human  race  a 
staff  to  lean  upon  in  time  of  trouble.  The  natural  ground- 
less faith  peculiar  to  the  optimist  temperament,  which  holds, 
without  knowing  why,  that  everything  will  come  right  in 
the  end,  is  the  only  kind  of  faith  really  wortliy  of  being 
so  called,  and  even  this  is  apt  to  be  affected  by  the  liver. 
Eila  had  known  this  kind  of  unreasoning  faith,  induced  by 
the  mere  ecstasy  of  living,  upon  certain  heavenly  mornings 
at  Cowa,  but  it  crumbled  away,  not  before  a  liver  out  of  or- 
der, which  was  a  thing  of  which  she  was  happily  ignorant, 
but  before  the  accumulation  of  family  troubles  that  beset  her. 
The  leprous-hued  building,  like  many  a  battered  belle  in 
real  life,  gained  by  being  surveyed  by  gaslight.  Its  leprous 
surface  looked  soft  and  creamy-hued  behind  its  brilliant 
adornment  of  gas.  The  spectators  were  already  crowding 
down  the  wide  descending  entrance,  which  made  Eila  think 
vaguely  of  tlie  broad  path  that  leadeth  to  destruction.  She 
stood  for  an  instant  on  one  side,  anxiously  scanning  their 


228  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

faces  through  her  veil,  before  seeking  the  side-entrance  by 
which  she  had  been  told  to  enter.  For  an  instant  she  felt  a 
wild  imiDulse  to  stop  each  person  who  passed  her,  and  to  say, 
"  Please  let  me  tell  you  why  I  am  going  to  do  this  to-night ; 
it  is  because  we  are  without  bread  in  the  house,  and  my 
mother  is  ill — not  for  any  other  reason."  Yet  why  torment 
herself  after  all  about  the  construction  the  spectators  might 
put  upon  her  action  ?  Why  think  of  them  as  human  beings 
at  all  ?  For  her  the  crowd  should  be  like  the  corporation  of 
Sir  Edward  Coke — a  thing  that  had  no  soul.  What  matter 
what  the  crowd  thought  of  her  if  it  only  gave  her  the  pref- 
erence !  What  were  the  people  to  her  or  she  to  them  ?  They 
would  never  see  her  again.  For  them  she  was  a  mere  pass- 
ing apparition,  without  name  or  individuality — not  the  Eila 
Clare  of  Hobart  of  whose  fair  repute  Reginald  Avas  so  jeal- 
ous.    Thus  reflecting,  she  passed  into  the  building. 


PART   II. 
CHAPTER  I. 

AT  THE   ANTIPODES. 

Some  two  or  three  years  before  the  Heg-ira  of  the  Clare 
family,  Tarraguiiyah  Station,  situated  on  the  border  of 
Queensland  and  New  South  Wales,  presented,  at  the  end  of 
the  shearing-  season,  a  vast  undulating  expanse  of  brown 
and  yellow  carpet,  covered  with  dark-toned  trees  and  shrubs, 
among  which  a  Linnaeus  would  doubtless  have  discovered 
endless  varieties  of  different  families  in  the  vegetable  world, 
but  which  to  the  ordinary  observer,  like  the  squatter  who 
now  rode  among  them,  conveyed  no  impression  but  that  of  a 
most  disastrous  sameness.  Indeed,  scraggy  she-oak  trees,  and 
scraggier  gums,  whether  blue  or  red  :  native  cherry,  mimosa, 
and  myi'tle — all  look  equally  black  and  uncultured  upon  a 
cursory  inspection.  There  is  nothing  green  and  bounteous 
in  their  demeanour,  like  that  of  their  leafier  sisters  in  the 
Old  "World — no  sweet  change  of  fashion  with  every  succeed- 
ing season ;  no  ermine  mantle  in  the  winter,  no  coat  of 
many  colours  in  the  autumn ;  no  downy  budding  in  the 
spring,  nor  luxurious  thicket  of  verdure  in  the  summer. 
Dark,  sullen,  and  frowning,  ofttimes  with  their  ragged  bark 
hanging  in  tatters  about  them  like  the  torn  apparel  of  some 
sturdy  beggar,  they  wear  the  same  forbidding  aspect  from 
year's  end  to  year's  end  ;  and  save  where  groves  of  native 
plum-trees  cast  a  soft  blue  halo  upon  the  distant  landscape, 
or  where  in  certain  favoured  gullies  giant  ferns  and  tropic 
creepers  twine  round  each  other  with  Brazilian  luxuriance, 
or  where,  again,  upon  fertile  mountain  slopes  the  mighty 

229 


230  NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

eucalyptus  towers  to  heaven  wreathed  with  the  wild  convol- 
vulus, they  could  never  inspire  that  feeling  of  love  and  rev- 
erence which  led  the  Druids  of  old  to  kneel  beneath  the 
shadow  of  the  oak,  and  which  has  moved  poets  in  all  ages 
to  sing  impassioned  songs  of  the  forest  trees  and  sylvan 
bowers  of  "  mei-rie  England." 

The  squatter,  however,  riding  over  the  Tarragunyah 
plains  to-day  did  not  bestow  much  thought  upon  the  mo- 
notony of  their  aspect.  Years  of  familiarity  had  bred,  if  not 
contempt,  at  least  indifference,  in  his  mind.  He  knew 
eternal  sameness  to  be  the  prevailing  characteristic  of  the 
Australian  Bush — knew  that  it  presented,  indeed,  one  of 
those  rare  types  in  which  a  study  of  the  part  is  almost  equal 
to  a  study  of  the  whole  ;  and  knew  at  the  same  time  that  he 
had  not  come  to  Australia,  like  Dr.  Syntax,  upon  a  tour  in 
search  of  the  picturesque,  but  simply  because  it  had  served 
his  purpose  and  his  interests  to  expatriate  himself.  He  had 
had  reasons  for  preferring  to  invest  his  money  in  a  station 
in  Australia  to  sinking  it  in  some  vague  speculation  in  the 
Old  World,  though,  for  all  the  return  it  had  given  him,  he 
might  as  well  have  hidden  it,  like  the  man  with  his  one 
talent,  in  a  napkin.  He  had  sunk  some  ten  thousand  pounds 
in  Tarragunyah,  and  sometimes  it  appeared  to  him  that  he 
had  sunk  them  so  effectually  that  he  would  never  be  able  to 
bring  them  to  the  surface  again.  He  had  tliought  as  much, 
at  least,  until  quite  lately,  when  Dame  Fortune  had  suddenly 
waved  her  wand  in  the  direction  of  a  certain  ridge  of  hills 
that  ran  slantwise  across  his  run.  Whether  she  was  merely 
mocking  him,  or  whether  she  had  some  serious  purpose  in 
her  action,  he  had  yet,  however,  to  determine,  and  it  was 
this  thought  that  was  uppermost  in  his  mind  as  he  rode  on 
his  homeward  way.  The  homestead  stood  upon  rising 
ground  in  the  midst  of  far-stretching  plains.  These  plains 
were  dotted,  as  we  have  seen,  with  sombre,  ungraceful  trees, 
and  clothed  in  parts  with  a  tangle  of  scrub.  At  their  best, 
when  the  grass  was  at  its  prime,  their  surface  was  sparsely 
brushed  with  yellowish  green ;  at  their  worst,  they  were 
brown  and  shrivelled,  and  scored  by  cracks  and  fissures, 
with  a  burning  air  shimmering  over  them,  and  traces  of  the 


AT  TUB  ANTIPODES.  231 

passage  of  starving  sheep  and  bullocks  in  the  bones  that 
strewed  their  tracks.  The  season  of  the  year  when  the 
squatter  rode  over  them  was  a  summer's  evening  in  Febru- 
ary, and  pleasant  are  the  images  that  the  words  call  up  to 
those  who  connect  summer  with  English  fields  and  hedge- 
rows, moist  with  falling  dew,  and  echoing  with  the  song  of 
thrush  and  lark.  How  different  a  vision  do  they  evoke  in 
the  mind  of  a  native-born  Australian  !  As  the  squatter  rode 
on  his  way,  an  occasional  whirl  of  dust,  driven  high  into 
the  air  by  the  scorching  wind,  enveloped  his  head  like  a 
cloud.  The  air  was  heavy  with  dust ;  the  harsh  leaves  of 
the  trees  were  hidden  under  it.  A  colony  of  hungry  flies 
followed  horse  and  rider,  settliiig  in  black  clusters  wherever 
they  could  find  settling-place  ;  and  each  time  the  hungriest 
of  the  band  was  driven  away,  he  returned,  like  the  devil  in 
the  Scriptures,  with  seven  devils  worse  than  himself. 

The  horse  clearly  knew  his  way  home ;  for  his  rider, 
holding  a  slack  rein,  allowed  him  to  take  his  own  direction, 
and  to  go  at  his  own  preferred  jog-trot  pace.  There  was  no 
living  soul  to  observe  either, though,  had  there  been  such  an 
one,  his  attention  would  not  long  have  rested  upon  the  horse. 
Not  that  the  animal  was  unworthy  of  notice,  albeit  of  wild 
stock  and  unknown  pedigree  ;  for  he  had  points  that  would 
have  recommended  him  instantly  to  a  connoisseur.  But  as 
we  are  ever  more  apt  to  be  struck  by  the  strange  and  gro- 
tesque than  by  tlie  beautiful  and  well-proportioned,  these 
points  would  only  have  served  to  bring  into  stronger  relief 
the  uncouth  form  of  the  person  who  bestrode  him.  It  was 
only  too  evident  at  a  glance  that  the  squatter  was  what  the 
French  expressively  call  mal  venu.  He  had  taken  off  his 
coat,  which  was  strapped  in  front  of  him  on  his  saddle  ;  and, 
in  his  gray  Crimean  shirt,  his  deformity  became  doubly  ap- 
parent. It  was  a  deformity  that  there  was  no  disguising.  The 
squatter  was  a  hunchback  ;  and,  in  common  with  all  hunch- 
backs, his  head  appeared  to  protrude  angularly  from  between 
his  misshapen  shoulders.  The  face,  like  those  of  the  un- 
fortunates to  which  he  belonged,  must  have  been  long  and 
peaky  in  extreme  youth ;  now  it  was  large,  harsh,  and 
rugged,  partly  concealed,  however,  under  a  coarse  black 


232  NOT   COUNTING   THE  COST. 

beard  and  moustache.  Even  so,  it  would  have  worn  the 
pathetic  expression  that  comes  from  the  constant  strain  of 
the  eyes  in  an  upward  direction,  in  the  effort  to  take  in  sur- 
rounding objects,  had  it  not  been  for  the  determination  its 
owner  betrayed  tliat  he  would  not  allow  himself  to  be  pitied. 
There  is  no  such  thing  as  a  habitual  scowl,  exce^jt,  perhaps, 
on  the  face  of  a  stage  Quilp ;  but  there  are  expressions 
which  are  not  far  removed  from  it.    The  eyes  of  the  squatter 

seemed  to  say,  "  Pity  me  if  you  dare,  and  be  d d  !  "  and, 

as  no  one  cares  to  gain  the  latter  form  of  benediction,  there 
were  not  many  found  to  risk  bestowing  the  former.  What 
Hubert  de  Merle  really  thought  about  himself,  no  one  knew. 
Nature — that  is,  God  and  devil  in  one — had  emi)loyed  her 
twofold  power  when  she  fashioned  him  ;  for  she  had  given 
him  the  perception  and  understanding  of  grace  and  beauty, 
and  then  had  mocked  him  by  imprisoning  these  faculties 
in  a  distorted  body. 

The  human  imagination  has  loved  at  all  times  to  picture 
a  sphere  in  which  the  outward  presentment  of  the  individual 
shall  be  the  complete  expression  of  his  inward  nature— a 
sphere  where  the  body  shall  be  nothing  but  the  plastic  garb 
of  the  spirit  animating  it,  like  the  delicate  and  transparent 
drapery  that  clings  round  the  sculptured  form  of  a  Greek 
goddess.  There  is  compensation  in  such  a  fancy  for  the 
melancholy  fact  that  in  our  actual  state  our  bodies  are  often 
sad  misfits.  We  can  cast  oS  at  oxir  will  an  ungainly  or  ill- 
fitting  garb ;  but  what  are  we  to  do  when  our  immaterial 
selves  are  encased  in  a  fleshly  covering  that  is  a  constant 
outrage  to  them  ?  To  bring  ourselves  into  harmony  with 
our  personalities,  w^e  should  have  to  do  constant  violence 
to  our  instincts.  This  was  the  fate  of  Hubert  de  Merle, 
owner  or  part  owner  of  Tarragunyah.  If  his  outward 
man  could  have  been  moulded  by  his  inner  spirit,  he 
would  have  possessed  in  all  likelihood  the  form  of  an 
Apollo  Belvedere — not,  perhaps,  that  his  moral  character, 
or  even  his  mind,  would  have  been  completely  and  fault- 
lessly balanced,  far  from  it ;  but  that  his  appreciation  of 
perfect  proportions  and  harmony  of  outline  was  so  instinc- 
tive and  keen.     Under  such  circumstances,  it  might  also 


AT  THE   ANTIPODES.  233 

have  happened  that  his  better  qualities  would  have  gained 
the  ascendant.  It  is  so  easy  to  feel  benevolently  dis- 
posed and  indulgent  towards  the  world  when  we  are  well 
satisfied  with  ourselves,  since,  after  all,  it  is  only  our  own 
moods  that  the  people  and  objects  about  us  reflect.  Hubert, 
being  made  as  he  was,  could  not  give  expression  to  the 
transcendental  part  of  his  nature,  for  the  reason  that  he 
was  too  morbidly  alive  to  the  incongruity  of  the  material 
part  of  it.  From  the  time  when  he  had  attained  to  self-con- 
sciousness, which  is  almost  coincident  in  intelligent  beings 
with  the  consciousness  of  existence  itself,  this  teri-ible  truth 
had  been  borne  in  upon  his  mind — that  he  must  stifle  all 
impulses  of  admiration,  of  enthusiasm,  and  of  love,  for  they 
could  never  react  upon  himself.  In  his  childish  days,  he 
had  found  it  in  his  heart  to  wish  that  he  had  been  born 
blind  as  well  as  deformed.  Better  be  enveloped  eternally 
in  the  darkness  of  Hades  than  dwell  open-eyed  and  sentient 
in  the  hell  of  Tantalus.  Perhaps  if  he  could  have  brought 
himself  to  accept  pity  and  sympathy,  his  lot  would  have 
been  less  hard ;  but  pity  he  resented  even  more  fiercely  than 
repulsion.  What  was  it  but  another  way  of  reminding  hirn 
that  he  was  an  outcast  and  a  pariah — a  creature  of  whom 
the  most  that  could  be  said  by  his  fellow-creatures  was  "  Poor 
devil ! "  as  they  turned  their  heads  in  another  direction  ? 

It  was  in  giving  Hubert  this  particular  kind  of  tempera- 
ment that  Nature  had  dealt  so  hardly  by  him.  There  was 
no  reason  why,  when  she  gave  him  a  hump,  she  should  not 
have  given  him  at  the  same  time  the  mirthful  qualities  which 
cause  the  French  to  say  of  a  person  who  laughs  heartily, 
"  II  rit  comme  un  bossu  "  ;  no  reason  why  she  should  have 
bestowed  extra  clear-sightedness,  sensitiveness  and  apprecia- 
tion of  form  and  colour  upon  him.  She  might  have  given 
him  recklessness,  or  indifference,  or  stolidity,  in  which  case 
he  would  speedily  have  discovered  that  his  deformity  made 
no  more  difference  to  others  than  it  did  to  himself,  and  that 
it  need  not,  and  did  not,  stand  in  the  way  of  his  doing  and 
enjoying  most  things  that  other  men  did  and  enjoyed.  The 
world,  as  we  all  know,  takes  us  at  our  own  valuation.  There 
are  only  a  very  few  with  discernment  enough  to  establish  a 


234  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

standard  of  their  own.  Had  Hubert  taken  his  affliction  in- 
differently, the  world  would  have  taken  it  indifferently.  If 
he  had  taken  it  merrily,  the  world  would  have  taken  it  mer- 
rily. He  chose  to  take  it  tragically.  It  was  in  the  order  of 
thing's  that  the  world  should  take  it  tragically  also.  It  was 
a  satisfaction  to  him  to  say  bitter  and  caustic  things,  though 
the  opportunity  for  saying  them  was  limited,  seeing  that  for 
some  ten  or  fifteen  years  he  had  led  an  almost  isolated  exist- 
ence in  the  heart  of  the  Australian  Bush.  Whence  he  had 
come  no  one  knew.  There  were  rumours  that  he  had  been 
in  New  Caledonia  in  his  earlier  years,  though  in  what  ca- 
pacity no  one  ventured  to  inquire.  His  library  bore  evi- 
dence that  he  had  studied  much,  and  that  he  still  continued 
to  study.  The  latest  works  on  scientific  subjects  found  their 
way  from  Europe  to  his  homestead.  He  remained  in  touch 
with  the  Old  World,  and  kept  pace  with  new  developments 
of  literature  in  France  and  England.  Thus,  he  was  familiar 
with  the  "decadents"  and  the  "  symbolistes"  in  his  far-away 
retreat — centuries  away,  to  all  seeming,  from  modern  civil- 
ization— before  the  echo  of  their  writings  had  spread  to  Eng- 
land. A  man  with  an  active  intellect,  who  never  sleeps 
more  than  six  hours  out  of  the  twenty -four,  who  has  (even 
when  allowance  is  made  for  meals,  and  dressing,  and  riding 
upon  a  squatter's  rounds)  six  or  seven  hours  per  diem  to  give 
to  his  books — a  man  who  possesses,  moreover,  a  memory  like 
a  vice — may  lay  in  a  large  fund  of  book-lore  in  the  course 
of  ten  years  of  a  solitary  and  studious  existence.  It  was  not 
surprising  that  Hubert  should  carry  about  a  kind  of  ency- 
clopaedia in  his  brain.  Unfortunately  the  heart  has  claims 
as  well  as  the  brain,  but  of  this  fact  he  did  his  utmost  to 
fight  down  all  reminders. 

Before  he  came  to  the  end  of  his  ride,  the  homestead, 
standing  upon  a  piece  of  rising  ground,  loomed  in  view. 
The  horse  had  taken,  as  he  might  well  be  trusted  to  do,  the 
shortest  and  directest  route  home,  and  the  white  walls  of  the 
cottage  shone,  as  in  a  picture,  from  amid  their  setting  of 
wild  fuchsia-bushes,  interspersed  with  the  bright  green  fo- 
liage of  the  native  plum.  The  station  buildings  formed 
three  sides  of  a  square,  of  which  the  dwelling-house  repre- 


AT  THE  ANTIPODES.  235 

sented  one  side,  the  stores  another,  the  kitchen  and  men's 
hut  a  third.  There  were  outlying  buildings  and  sheds  at  a 
certain  distance  from  the  house,  and  post  and  rail  fences  en- 
closing paddocks  whex'e  the  station-milkers  and  horses  un- 
groomed  were  running  at  liberty.  The  buildings  were  made 
of  cob,  a  kind  of  sun-dried  clay,  tempered  and  worked  with 
water  and  dry  grass  ;  they  looked  compact  and  comfortable. 
The  walls  of  the  homestead  were  whitewashed,  and  sur- 
rounded by  a  deep,  cool  veranda.  The  roof  was  thatched 
with  coarse  grass.  Four  kangaroo  dogs  and  a  collie  ran 
lightly  forward  with  yelps  and  bounds  of  welcome  as  the 
squatter  approached,  and  a  man  who  was  leaning  against  a 
fence  smoking  his  pipe  sauntered  across  the  square  past  the 
monster  wood-heap  to  take  his  employer's  horse.  It  was 
past  seven  in  the  evening,  and  all  the  inmates  had  time  and 
to  spare  on  their  hands.  Hubert  dismounted  with  his  habit- 
ual half-sullen  nod  at  the  man.  Standing  next  to  him,  the 
misshapen  outline  of  his  dwarfed  body  was  more  perceptible 
than  ever  against  the  whitening  evening  sky.  He  walked 
slowly  towards  the  house  and  entered  it  by  the  back-door, 
standing — like  all  the  other  doors  in  the  establishment — 
wide  open.  There  was  no  upper  story.  A  broad  passage, 
covered  with  coir  matting,  ran  lengthways  through  the 
house,  connecting  the  front  and  back  doors.  Along  this 
passage  a  young  man  with  a  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  with  a 
generally  sun-burnt  and  sunny  face,  came  forward  to  meet 
him. 

The  squatter's  expression  brightened  visibly  as  he  ap- 
proached. 

"  So  you're  back,  Wilton  ? "  he  said.  His  voice  was  mu- 
sical, and  might  have  suggested  that  of  a  rejuvenated  Faust, 
had  you  heard  it  from  behind  a  screen.  "  I  didn't  expect 
you  so  soon." 

He  had  raised  his  eyes  as  he  spoke — dark,  resentful,  brood- 
ing eyes,  that  were  scarcely  on  a  level  with  the  young  man's 
chest — and  the  look  of  welcome  that  shone  in  them  trans- 
formed them  pleasantly  for  a  moment. 

"  Yes,  I'm  back,"  replied  the  young  man,  holding  out  his 
hand  and  exchanging  a  cordial  greeting  with  the  "boss." 
16 


236  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

Half  the  conversation  in  life  is  made  up  of  obvious  remarks 
of  this  kind.  "  I've  got  through  with  the  business  sooner 
than  I  expected." 

Hubert  looked  up  quickly  with  a  half-eager  gesture  of 
inquiry.  He  had  been  standing  with  his  riding-whip  in  his 
hand,  his  coat  carelessly  attached  by  one  button  round  his 
neck,  while  the  empty  sleeves  dangled  loosely  over  his  half- 
discovered  breast — hairy  as  an  Orson's.  He  wore  a  conical- 
ly-shaped  felt  wideawake  of  the  approved  brigand  pattern, 
beneath  which  his  thick  grizzled  hair,  that  gi-eatly  needed 
trimming,  hung  dusty  and  unkempt.  He  might  have  been 
still  under  forty,  or  considerably  over  that  age.  It  would 
have  been  difficult  to  determine  whether  the  lines  on  the 
forehead  were  the  i*esult  of  much  working  of  the  brows  in 
frowning,  in  straining  the  eyes  upwards,  or  of  age.  The 
nose  was  rugged,  with  a  suggestion  of  Hebraic  origin  in  its 
curves.  The  eyelids  were  singularly  thick,  with  a  short 
stubble  of  dark  lash.  As  he  stood  there,  with  the  dust  of 
the  plains  marking  every  seam  upon  his  harsh  countenance, 
as  though  with  a  charcoal  pencil,  his  whip  in  his  hand  and 
his  hat  thrust  back  fi'om  his  temples,  he  was  an  object  out 
of  whose  path  a  woman  or  child  meeting  him  alone  would 
have  stepped  hastily. 


CHAPTER  II. 

HUBERT'S  PROPHECY. 

"Well,  what  did  the  experts  say  ?"  was  his  first  eager 
question.     "  Is  our  discovery  worth  following  up  ? " 

Jack  Wilton  did  not  answer  immediately  in  words.  He 
was  one  of  those  people  to  whom  Nature  seems  to  have  ac- 
corded the  privilege,  in  a  mood  of  kind  caprice,  of  doing 
ungraceful  things  gracefully.  The  gesture  with  which  he 
replied  to  the  squatter's  question  by  laying  his  right  finger 
against  his  nose  and  playfully  kicking  up  his  left  leg  like  a 
colt  that  has  been  touched  on  the  hock,  would  have  been 


HUBERT'S  PROPHECY.  237 

offensively  vulgar  and  flippant  in  another  person.  Per- 
formed by  him,  it  conveyed  nothing  but  the  expression  of  a 
concentrated  glee  and  triumph  past  conveying  in  words, 
and  that  the  squatter  apprehended  it  in  this  sense  was  clear 
from  the  gleam  of  corresponding  satisfaction  that  flitted 
for  an  instant  across  his  sombre  face. 

"  So  it's  turned  out  trumps  ? "  he  said.  "  Well,  I'm  not 
surprised.  Come  in,  and  let  me  hear  all  you've  done  from 
the  beginning." 

Jack  Wilton  obeyed.  "It"  related  to  a  notable  dis- 
covery that  had  been  made  some  months  ago  at  Tarra- 
gunyah.  Riding  one  day  upon  his  rounds — for  Jack  con- 
descended to  do  amateur  boundary-rider  upon  occasion — 
his  attention  had  wandered  to  a  strange  jagged  line  of  low 
hills  on  Tarragunyah  run.  Along  the  top  of  this  ridge  was 
a  heavy  outcrop  of  rusty,  burned-looking  stone,  that  he 
recognised  at  once  as  iron-stone.  He  had  broken  off  a  piece 
of  it,  more  from  curiosity  than  from  any  other  motive,  and 
had  carried  it  to  the  head  station,  where  it  had  lain  kicking 
about  until  Hubert,  who  had  a  knowledge  of  geology,  as  of 
all  else,  picked  it  up  and  declared  it  to  be  the  outcrop  of 
some  mineral  lode.  The  matter  did  not  rest  there.  Two 
days  later,  Hubert  himself,  accompanied  by  Jack,  the 
boundary-rider,  a  shepherd,  and  a  worn-out  miner,  who 
happened  to  be  knocking  about  the  run  in  the  undefined 
capacity  of  "  generally  useful  man,"  sallied  forth  with  picks 
and  shovels,  and  sunk  a  small  shaft.  The  stuff  extracted 
was  judged  by  Mr.  de  Merle  to  be  worth  testing,  and  Jack, 
who  was  equally  pleased  to  leave  Tarragunyah  or  to  come 
back  to  it,  upon  the  "anything  for  a  change  "  principle,  was 
despatched  to  Sydney,  where  his  father  was  a  physician 
with  a  fashionable  practice,  to  have  the  ore  analyzed.  The 
analyst  had  declared  the  specimen  to  be  exceptionally  rich 
in  silver,  and  as  the  possession  of  a  silver-mine  may  signify 
the  holding  of  an  Aladdin's  purse  to  the  happy  possessor. 
Jack's  triumph  as  he  recounted  the  good  news  was  not 
unnatural. 

"  It'll  be  a  glorious  thing  if  it  does  turn  out  trumps,  as 
you  say,"  he  concluded  confidentially.     "  I've  been  having 


238  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

a  talk  with  the  old  governor  this  time  down  in  Sydney,  and 
he's  got  a  lot  of  worry,  I  tell  you." 

"  Why,  I  thought  your  father  had  such  a  good  practice," 
interposed  Hubert. 

"  So  he  has ;  but  they  keep  up  a  lot  of  style.  You've  no 
idea  how  much  it  costs.  I've  got  three  sisters  out  now,  and 
not  one  of  'em  married  or  even  engaged  ;  and  it's  driving 
and  shopping  from  morning  till  night.  The  poor  old  gov- 
ernor has  all  his  work  cut  out  for  him,  I  tell  you." 

This  "  I  tell  you  "  was  Jack  Wilton's  watchword ;  he  em- 
ployed it  almost  unconsciously,  in  season  and  out  of  season, 
to  give  an  additional  weight  to  the  statements  which  his 
limited  phraseology  seemed  to  him  to  convey  inadequately 
to  the  understanding  of  his  hearers.  Eloquence,  indeed, 
was  not  one  of  his  strong  points,  but  he  had  others  which 
served  him,  perhaps,  in  better  stead.  He  was  essentially 
well  favoured  and  pleasant  to  look  upon.  His  eyes  were 
blue  enough  to  be  attractive  for  their  colour  alone,  inde- 
pendently of  all  their  other  qualities ;  and  he  boi'e  the  air  of 
having  been  warmed  and  gilded  by  the  sun,  until  something 
of  the  influence  of  that  radiant  orb  had  passed  into  his  hair, 
his  glance,  and  even  his  expression.  Hubert  could  have 
found  it  in  his  heart  to  say  of  Jack  as  Desdemona  said  of 
Othello,  that  he  wished  "  Heaven  had  made  him  such  a 
man."  Jack  was  his  David,  and  without  the  aid  of  a  harp 
could  charm  the  evil  spirit  from  his  breast  by  the  mere 
magic  of  his  presence.  He  was  the  only  being  in  whose 
society  the  deformed  man  was  able  to  forget  that  he  was  not 
as  other  men,  and  from  the  day  that  Jack  had  come  to  do 
"  jackaroo  "  on  Tarragunyah  station,  its  owner  had  tasted 
for  almost  the  first  time  the  sweets  of  human  companion- 
ship. 

Not  that  Jack  was  in  any  respect  the  intellectual  mate  of 
his  friend  and  employer.  He  had  no  pretensions  and  no 
ambitions  other  than  to  be  a  good  shot  and  a  first-rate  rider. 
In  the  eyes  of  the  world  he  was  simply  a  more  than  ordi- 
narily good-looking  and  good-hearted  young  fellow,  whom 
men  and  women — women  especially — were  certain  to  like. 
In  his  own  eyes  his  physical  graces  counted  as  nothing.    He 


HUBERT'S  PROPHECY.  239 

had  not  sufficient  imagination  to  picture  existence  without 
them,  and  would  have  told  you  in  all  good  faith  that  he 
would  as  lief  be  Hubert  de  Merle  as  himself.  It  was  this 
want  of  appreciation  of  jiersonal  gifts  that  the  other  would 
have  esteemed  so  passionately  that  had  drawn  Hubert  to 
him  in  the  first  instance.  The  gulf  which  separated  the 
hunchback, 'to  liis  own  thinking,  from  his  fellowmen  seemed 
to  disappear  when  he  was  in  Jack's  company.  The  lad,  more- 
over, had  a  wondering  veneration  for  the  squatter's  lore. 
Though  he  did  not  understand  a  word  of  Greek  or  German 
or  French,  and  though  his  vocabulary  was  limited  to  an 
Australian  slang  rendering  of  his  mother-tongue,  there  had 
yet  been  evenings  in  camp  upon  cattle-mustering  expedi- 
tions, when  the  two  men  had  lain  wrapped  in  their  rugs, 
with  their  feet  to  the  fire  and  their  eyes  to  the  stars,  and 
when  tlie  yovmger  had  tasted  a  new  pleasure  in  hearing  the 
elder  roll  out  fragments  of  Euripides,  scenes  from  "  Faust," 
or  sonorous  passages  from  Victor  Hugo.  His  nearest  ap- 
proach to  an  understanding  of  intellectual  delights  was  em- 
bodied in  the  hearing  of  these  spontaneous  recitations.  He 
experienced,  unknown  to  himself,  the  symbolist's  pleasure 
of  gathering  sensation  and  emotion  from  the  juxtaposition 
of  words,  unhampered  by  ideas. 

Hubert  had  taken  him  upon  his  station  some  two  years 
previously,  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  and  at  the  outset  it  would 
have  been  difficult  to  say  whether  he  would  regard  his  jack- 
aroo aid  with  liking  or  with  hatred.  The  latter  contingency 
might  have  seemed  the  more  probable,  for  there  was  some- 
thing almost  insolent  in  Jack's  good  looks  when  seen  by  the 
side  of  his  ill-favoured  boss.  The  contrast  was  suggestive  of 
nothing  but  Apollo  and  Vulcan  keeping  house  together ; 
and  no  one  was  more  keenly  alive  to  the  contrast  than 
Hubert  himself.  But  Jack  was  so  unconscious  of  it  on  his 
own  side,  and  so  blunt  in  his  perceptions  of  beauty  in  any 
of  its  manifestations,  that  the  morbid  self-consciousness  of 
the  other  was  mollified.  From  tolerating  the  young  man, 
he  had  come  to  like  him.  Jack  Wilton  served  as  a  perpetual 
reminder  of  the  fact  that  there  was,  after  all,  something  in 
the  consoling  theory  of  tlie  equalization  of  lots : 


24:0  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

"  For  some  ha'  meat  and  canna  eat, 
And  some  can  eat  and  have  na  meat, 
So  let  the  Lord  be  praised." 

Jack  had  the  attributes  of  Phoebus,  the  sun-god,  and  no  ap- 
preciation of  them.  Hubert  had  appreciation,  but  no  attri- 
butes. There  were,  nevertheless,  times  when  it  angered  him 
to  think  of  the  keen  pleasure  he  would  himself  have  ex- 
tracted from  life  had  he  been  clothed  in  Jack's  body.  What 
riches  are  comparable  to  those  of  youth,  and  health,  and 
outward  gi*aces  bound  up  with  our  very  being  ?  With 
Jack's  physical  advantages,  Hubert  would  have  given  the 
reins  to  all  his  impulses,  for  he  possessed  an  Oriental  imagi- 
nation. The  Turkish  idea  of  Paradise  had  the  stronger  hold 
upon  his  secret  fancy  that  he  had  been  but  grudgingly  ad- 
mitted into  its  outer  courts  upon  earth.  Had  he  been  in  the 
position  of  a  Nero,  he  would  have  wished,  not  that  his  fel- 
low-men had  one  neck,  that  he  might  decapitate  them  at  a 
blow,  but  that  his  sister  women  had  one  mouth,  that  he 
might  press  his  lips  to  theirs  in  a  single  embrace.  Such 
stormy  episodes  as  he  had  been  through  in  his  earlier  years 
were  only  vaguely  hinted  at  in  the  colonies.  It  was  noticed 
when  he  was  beside  himself  with  anger  that  he  swore 
strange  oaths,  which  those  versed  in  such  matters  declared 
to  be  French.  It  was  also  rumoured  that  he  had  played  a 
role  in  the  Commune,  and  had  escaped  being  shot  judicially 
for  the  sole  reason  that  he  had  been  wounded  in  a  street 
fray,  and  had  been  carted  away  to  the  hospital.  Whether 
there  was  any  truth  in  the  rumoiu",  whether,  as  was  asserted 
by  some,  he  had  really  seen  gaol  life  in  New  Caledonia,  or 
whether  he  had  only  gone  thither,  as  he  himself  gave  out, 
upon  a  mission  from  the  French  Government,  no  one  in 
Australia  rightly  knew.  Nor  did  anyone  make  a  particular 
point  of  inquiring.  "  The  world  forgetting,  by  the  world 
forgot,"  Hubert  kept,  as  the  common  saying  goes,  "  himself 
to  himself  "  in  his  lonely  homestead  at  Tarragunyah,  and 
no  one  had  any  motive  for  dragging  him  out  of  it.  Even 
Jack,  to  whom  he  felt  nearer  than  to  any  being  upon  earth, 
had  never  ventui'ed  to  question  him  about  his  past  career. 
It  was  the  young  man's  belief  that  the  squatter  had  omnipo- 


HUBERT'S  PROPHECY.  241 

tent  knowledge,  not  only  as  regarded  books,  but  as  regarded 
all  that  men  may  do,  can  do,  and  dare  do  in  the  woi'ld.  He 
would  have  liked  to  hear  all  about  his  experiences  of  life  in 
the  wonderful  European  capitals,  but  though,  when  Hubert 
was  in  the  vein,  he  would  condescend  to  enter  into  a  few- 
details  concerning  the  Grand  Prix  or  a  masked  ball  at  the 
opera,  in  response  to  Jack's  eager  questions,  no  reference  to 
his  own  doings  ever  crossed  his  lips.  Jack  had  ended  by 
accepting  his  silence  upon  these  points  as  final.  The  station 
and  its  affairs  offered  congenial  topics  for  general  conversa- 
tion, or,  when  these  were  exhausted,  there  was  always  the 
theme  of  colonial  politics  to  fall  back  upon.  Besides  which, 
the  two  men  had  been  long  upon  the  intimate  footing  that 
renders  silence  on  both  sides  a  natural  and  easy  way  of  en- 
joying mutual  companionship.  Hubert  could  read  and 
smoke  by  the  hour  together  without  apparent  fatigue,  his 
uncomely,  shaggy  head  hardly  reaching  to  the  top  of  the 
old  station  armchair  in  which  he  sat  ci'ouched.  Jack, 
though  he  could  not  read  for  long  at  a  time,  could  smoke 
unobtrusively  through  an  entire  evening,  content,  after  he 
had  read  the  colonial  papers  and  studied  the  Queensland 
Mail  from  end  to  end,  to  sing  or  whistle,  or,  if  these  resources 
failed,  to  go  'possum-shooting  by  moonlight  with  the  dogs 
at  his  heels. 

Tarragunyah  was  not  a  magnificent  specimen  of  a  squat- 
ter's abode.  The  room  chiefly  inhabited  by  Hubert  and  his 
aid  had  no  pretensions  to  style.  Tables  and  sideboard  heaped 
with  the  evidences  of  the  male  presence  in  pipes,  tobacco- 
pouches,  cartridge-boxes,  odd  straps,  bags  of  seeds,  news- 
papers, writing  materials,  the  inevitable  whisky-bottle  and 
tumblers,  with  some  odd  samples  of  wool,  represented  its 
principal  appointments.  Guns  and  native  weapons  were 
ranged  around  the  walls.  Bookshelves,  whereon  books  of 
every  descrij)tion  lay  piled  in  confusion,  were  the  only 
superfluous  luxuries.  Hubert's  books,  indeed,  overflowed 
the  establishment.  They  climbed  from  floor  to  ceiling  in 
the  sitting-room,  redviced  his  sleeping-room  to  the  size  of  a 
cabin  by  the  space  they  filled  upon  the  walls,  and  besides 
appropriating  the  whole  of  the  spare  room,  thrust  themselves 


242  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

into  every  available  corner  in  Jack's  chamber  wherein  they 
could  find  standing-  or  lying  room. 

For  two  years  the  monotony  of  life  upon  the  station  had 
been  broken  by  nothing  more  eventful  than  the  every-day 
occurrences  of  Bush  life.  The  lambing  and  the  foaling,  the 
breaking  in  of  two-year-olds  and  three-year-olds,  cattle- 
mustering  and  cattle-draughting,  bullock-branding  and  bul- 
lock-slaying, two  Bush  fires,  and  one  flood,  these  had  been 
the  only  events  that  had  marked  the  even  tenour  of  the  way 
at  Tarx'agunyah.  Jack  had  taken  periodical  leaves  during 
the  so-called  Carnival  Week  in  Melbourne  and  Race  Week 
in  Sydney,  returning  for  the  most  part  a  sadder  if  not  a 
wiser  man.  For  the  rest,  he  put  his  mind  and  heart  into 
the  interests  of  Tarragunyah,  in  which  his  father,  a  Sydney 
doctor  with  aristocratic  pretensions,  had  bought  him  a  part 
share. 

But  now  had  come  the  first  hint  of  a  change,  which 
promised  to  lift  Tarragunyah  and  its  owners  from  the  ruck 
of  Australian  stations  worked  by  their  own  proprietors  for 
evermore.  It  was  upon  a  February  evening  that  Jack  had 
returned  with  the  great  news  of  the  analyst's  verdict  on  the 
Tarragunyah  ore,  and  the  same  night  he  and  Hubert  dis- 
cussed the  matter  as  they  sat  smoking  together  in  the  warm 
blackness  of  the  front  veranda  after  dinner.  The  rough- 
and-ready  (rougher,  perhaps,  than  ready)  married  couple 
who  served  them  had  cleared  away  the  roast  wild  turkey 
and  the  omelette  of  emu's  eggs  that  had  formed  their  even- 
ing meal,  and  now  they  had  carried  their  cups  of  black 
coffee,  the  only  foreign  innovation  introduced  by  Hubert, 
into  the  less  stifling  atmosphere  without.  Less  stifling  in  a 
relative  sense  only,  for  even  here  the  air  was  thick  with 
heat  and  flies,  and  had  it  not  been  for  the  tobacco-smoke 
they  would  have  drawn  but  dust-laden  breaths.  No  tune- 
ful note  disturbed  the  sullen  stillness  of  the  hour.  Only 
from  time  to  time  the  sad  wail  of  the  curlew  was  borne 
through  the  night,  while  from  beneath  a  native  shrub  in 
the  darkening  garden  a  morepork  uttered  his  solemn  croak- 
ing refrain.  Hubert  liked  the  friendly  veil  of  darkness  that 
covered  him.    In  his  younger  days  he  had  had  dreams  of 


HUBERT'S  PROPHECY.  243 

adoring  a  beautiful  mistress  upon  the  terms  on  which  Cupid 
possessed  Psyche — a  mistress  who  should  know  him  as  a 
wooer  by  night  alone.  He  leaned  back  in  his  wicker-chair, 
taking  slow  puffs  at  his  cigar,  while  the  lithe  kangaroo  dog, 
that,  by  a  curious  contradiction,  never  noticed  Jack  when 
Hubert  was  by,  thrust  his  head  between  his  master's  knees 
and  whined  for  a  caress.  Jack  was  sitting,  American  fashion, 
with  his  feet  thrown  over  the  veranda  railing  as  he  tilted 
back  his  chair  at  an  angle  that  only  long  practice  guaran- 
teed against  the  ignominy  of  a  capsize.  The  accustomed 
pipe  was  between  his  lips,  and  unwonted  dreaminess  in  the 
gaze  he  directed  tlu-ough  the  darkness  at  the  night  sky. 

"  It's  a  ruia  go,"  he  said  at  last,  in  abstracted  tones,  after 
a  long  and  profound  silence. 

"  What  is  ? "  asked  Hubert,  with  lazy  scorn  in  his  accents. 

"  Why,  life  altogether — the  whole  blessed  business.  I'm 
hanged  if  I  can  make  head  or  tail  of  it  when  I  get  to  think- 
ing about  it.  It's  a  good  thing  for  me,  I  tell  you.  that  I 
don't  often  puzzle  my  brains  about  it,  for  I  believe  I  should 
go  off  my  chump  altogether  if  I  did.  Look  at  those  patches 
in  the  sky  up  there — right  up  beyond  the  Southern  Cross — 
the  white  and  the  black  ;  you  don't  mean  to  tell  me  those 
are  all  filled  up  with  worlds  ? " 

"  What  white  and  what  black  ? "  asked  Hubert,  always 
witli  the  same  inflexion  of  good-natured  contempt.  "  The 
Milky  Way,  do  you  mean  ?  Well,  I  believe  it  is  pretty  gen- 
erally allowed  by  those  who  know  that  there  are  millions  of 
planetary  systems  in  the  course  of  formation  over  there,  not 
to  speak  of  those  that  are  in  full  swing  already.    Apres  f  " 

"  And  then  that  black  patch,"  Jack  went  on  ;  "  the  bound- 
ary-rider told  me  the  other  day — he's  a  regular  learned  chap, 
the  boundary-rider— he  told  me  if  there  were  any  stars  in  it, 
or  planets,  as  he  called  'em,  they  were  so  far  off  you  couldn't 
get  a  sight  of  them  even  through  the  telescope.  What  I 
want  to  know  is,  where  does  it  come  to  a  stop  ? " 

"  It  doesn't  stop  at  all,"  said  Hubert  quietly.  "  It's  eter- 
nity, whose  end  no  eye  can  reach." 

"  It's  got  to  come  to  some  kind  of  a  stop,  anyhow,"  de- 
clared Jack  oracularly,  "  though  it  beats  me,  I  tell  you." 


244:  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

"You're  not  the  only  one  who's  been  beaten  by  that 
problem,"  said  Hubert  indifferently.  "  Time  and  space  are 
nicely  calculated  to  shake  our  dispositions 

"  '  With  thoughts  beyond  the  reaches  of  our  souls.' 

But  what  has  induced  these  profound  reflections  ?  I  always 
took  it  for  granted  you  were  of  those  who  accepted  the 
green-cheese  theory  of  the  moon,  if  you  gave  the  moon  a 
thought  at  all.  Have  the  bookmakers  been  making  things 
unpleasant  for  you  at  Randwick  ?  " 

"  The  bookmakers  ?  Not  they !  I  haven't  given  them 
another  chance  of  lambing  me  down,  I  tell  you.  No !  it  all 
came  into  my  head  while  I  was  looking  at  the  stars.  I've 
been  thinking  about  the  silver-mine  and  one  thing  and  an- 
other till  my  head's  in  a  whirl.  All  of  a  sudden  something 
seemed  to  tell  me  it  wasn't  worth  making  such  a  fuss  about, 
any  way ;  for  if  it's  all  true,  what  you've  been  saying,  our 
own  affairs  are  such  a  drop  in  the  bucket,  after  all " 

"Our  own  affairs!"  exclaimed  Hubert.  "Why,  man, 
for  all  you  know,  the  world,  the  very  universe  itself,  is  a 
mere  drop  in  the  ocean.  But  unless  you  turn  Trappist, 
which  would  be  one  way  of  settling  the  difficulty,  you'll 
have  to  give  your  own  affairs  the  biggest  place  in  it,  after 
all.  What  were  you  telling  me  about  your  father  this  after- 
noon ?    He's  not  in  any  serious  difficulties,  I  hope " 

"  No — oh  no  ! "  said  Jack  hastily.  He  got  up  from  his 
chair  as  though  to  shake  off  the  unusual  thoughts  that  had 
been  oppressing  him,  and  took  one  or  two  turns  up  and 
down  the  veranda.  When  he  next  spoke,  his  voice  had  re- 
sumed its  usual  unemotional  tones.  There  was  no  ring  of 
English  cultivation,  but  a  pleasant  well-to-do,  sure-of -your- 
self, devil-may-cai'e  colonial  inflexion  in  it.  "You  see,"  he 
said  thoughtfully,  "  the  governor's  had  his  nose  to  the  grind- 
stone the  best  part  of  his  life.  It's  about  time  he  thought  of 
taking  a  rest ;  but  while  my  mother  and  the  girls  go  the 
pace,  as  they  do,  there's  not  much  chance  of  his  getting  a 
holiday.  He  told  me  this  time  I  mustn't  draw  upon  hira 
the  same  as  I  did  last  year,  or  he'd  never  be  able  to  go  on 
paying  his  life-j)olicy  to  the  end." 


HUBERT'S  PROPHECY.  245 

Hubert  smoked  gravely  in  silence  for  a  few  moments. 
Then  lie  said  between  the  puffs : 

"  I  don't  believe  in  counting  your  chickens  before  they're 
hatched,  but  I  wouldn't  take  a  hundred  thousand  pounds 
down  in  cash  at  this  moment  for  my  share  in  the  new  mine. 
If  I'm  not  very  much  mistaken,  yo-u  won't  want  to  draw  on 
your  father,  and  he  can  double  his  life-policy  and  retire  with 
a  fortune  before  two  years  are  over." 

Jack  grunted,  whether  from  satisfaction  or  as  a  sign  of 
incredulity  it  would  be  hard  to  say. 

"First  thing  I'd  do,"  he  said  after  a  pause,  "when  every- 
thing was  fixed,  I'd  take  a  trip  home.  A  fellow  doesn't  feel 
half  a  man,  I  tell  you,  until  he's  seen  the  world,  and  I 
reckon  you'd  come  too.  If  we  could  go  together,  and  you 
were  to  show  me  the  ropes !  What  a  lark  it  would  be — eh, 
commander  ? " 

The  foregoing  appellation  was  a  title  Jack  had  hit  upon 
for  his  patron  from  the  outset  without  having  given,  how- 
ever, the  subject  any  previous  consideration.  He  could  not 
call  Hubert  "governor,"  wliich  was  a  name  sacred  to  his 
own  father.  "  Boss  "  was  too  familiar,  and  "  sir  "  or  "  Mr.  de 
Merle"  savoured  of  the  schoolmaster  or  Mentor.  At  the 
same  time,  as  Jack  was  in  the  position  of  a  subordinate,  and 
almost  young  enough  to  be  his  employer's  son,  he  did  not 
like  to  address  him  by  either  of  his  names  stripped  of  a  pre- 
fix, nor  yet  to  address  him  upon  all  occasions  without  nam- 
ing him  at  all.  There  was,  moreover,  a  suggestion  of  some- 
thing not  to  be  trifled  with  in  Hubert's  manner  of  giving 
his  orders  that  made  the  title  of  commander  peculiarly  suit- 
ablej^o  him,  and  once  adopted.  Jack  continued  to  employ  it 
almost  unconsciously. 

In  answer  to  the  proposal  that  he  should  accompany  Mr. 
Wilton  to  Europe,  if  things  turned  out  as  might  be  expected, 
Hubert  shook  his  head.  The  words,  however,  were  respon- 
sible for  inducing  a  state  of  mind  that  Jack  was  far  from 
divining ;  though,  even  had  he  divined,  he  would  have  been 
equally  far  from  comprehending  it.  In  his  secret  heart  Mr. 
de  Merle  was  gratified  that  liis  companionship  should  be 
desired  by  his  unsoi)histicated  "jackaroo,"   for  the  wish 


246  NOT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

could  not  possibly  be  prompted  by  any  other  motive  than 
the  original  and  humorous  one  of  a  personal  sympathy  and 
liking  for  him.  Had  he  been  a  woman,  the  case  might  have 
worn  another  aspect,  for  then  Jack  might  have  desired  to 
have  him  as  a  foil,  though  even  so,  a  woman  with  Jack's 
looks  would  have  been  handsome  enough  to  hold  her  own 
without  the  aid  of  any  such  grotesque  contrast.  A  hundred 
conflicting  thoughts  coursed  through  Hubert's  brain  as  he 
pondered  over  the  questions  that  Jack's  words  seemed  to 
open  up.  Supposing  he  could  bring  himself  to  get  a  kind  of 
flavour  at  second-hand  out  of  Jack's  experiences  and  adven- 
tures, or  even  to  take  a  vicarious  enjoyment  in  his  conquests 
and  bonnes  fortunes  during  their  travels  ?  Might  not  such 
a  course  be  preferable  to  the  one  he  had  hitherto  forced 
himself  to  follow,  of  crushing  dowai  every  germ  of  senti- 
ment and  emotion  in  himself  ?  If  he  should,  indeed,  make 
up  his  mind  to  accompany  this  young  Adonis  on  his  Euro- 
pean travels,  he  must  prepare  to  accept  one  of  two  alterna- 
tives. Either  he  must  be  devoured  by  a  burning  jealousy 
of  him,  and  must  endure  purgatorial  tortures  every  time  a 
woman's  glance  should  wander  with  pitying  rejjulsion  from 
Jack's  face  to  his  own,  or  he  must  force  himself  once  for  all 
to  seek  his  own  personal  and  individual  satisfaction  in 
Jack's  triumphs.  The  proverb  says,  "  Half  a  loaf  is  better 
than  no  bread ; "  but  this  seemed  hardly  to  fit  the  case,  for 
Hubert  would  not  have  even  a  crumb  of  Jack's  loaf  to  his 
share.  On  the  contrary,  the  only  appeasement  he  could 
look  for  would  be  that  the  more  he  himself  should  starve 
the  more  Jack  would  eat  his  fill.  Hitherto  the  line  already 
quoted  of  "Some  have  meat  and  canna  eat,"  had  most  fit- 
tingly described  Jack's  position ;  but  Hubert  was  sure  that 
neither  the  appetite  nor  the  meat  would  be  wanting  when 
the  young  man  came  to  realize  the  full  meaning  of  travel- 
ling "  for  his  pleasure."  But  he  could  not  review  the  situa- 
tion in  his  own  mind  as  calmly  as  he  would  have  wished. 
The  hardest  reflection  was  the  consciousness  that  in  so  far 
as  he  himself  was  concerned  a  whole  volcano  full  of  mis- 
spent enthusiasm  and  passion  lay  hidden  beneath  his  un- 
couth and  repellant  exterior.    Why  was  he  made  so  ?    Why 


HUBERT'S  PROPHECY.  247 

had  Nature  singled  him  out  as  her  special  butt  and  victim  ? 
Why  had  she  given  him  a  temperament  that  rendered  his 
misshapen  body  so  sorry  a  joke  ?  Why  had  she  caused  his 
pulses  to  beat  more  quickly,  his  blood  to  flow  more  rapidly 
than  other  men's  ?  He  felt  as  though  a  beaker  of  the  warm 
South  had  been  poured  into  his  veins  to  ferment  and  turn 
to  vinegar.  Had  he  not  fought  against  the  wild  impulses 
that  surged  up  within  him  ?  When  he  condemned  himself 
to  the  life  of  a  recluse  in  the  Australian  Bush,  it  was  not,  as 
some  said,  to  increase  his  store  of  wealth,  or,  as  others 
hinted,  because  he  bore  a  branded  name.  The  thing  that 
had  driven  him  into  the  wilderness  was  the  conflict  between 
his  own  dreams  and  the  horrible  reality.  Nothing  could 
alleviate  the  bitterness  of  that,  though  he  would  have  rushed 
into  the  most  reckless  of  dissipations  to  purchase  an  hour  of 
forgetfulness.  If  he  could  have  found  relief  in  the  wildest 
orgies,  such  orgies  as  laid  the  Roman  Empire  in  the  dust,  he 
would  not  have  hesitated  to  take  part  in  them.  But  here 
again  Nature  had  interposed  with  a  diabolical  refinement  of 
cruelty.  He  could  not  drown  his  ti'ouble  in  debauch.  It 
would  have  been  not  only  indifferent,  but  hateful  to  him. 
He  must  have  all  or  nothing — a  grand  passion  or  nothing 
at  all — his  ideal  made  incarnate,  or  the  crushing  out  of  the 
ideal  altogether.  But  where  was  the  woman  who  would 
stoop  to  him,  or  who  would  dream  of  looking  for  the  prince's 
soul  through  the  life-long  disguise  of  the  beast  ?  Away 
with  such  pitiful  illusions !  Let  him  flee  to  the  uttermost 
limits  of  the  earth.  He  would  not  even  assume  the  mask  of 
a  woman-hater,  lest  he  should  draw  down  added  ridicule 
upon  his  person.  He  would  content  himself  Avith  ignoring 
the  existence  of  one-half  of  the  human  creation  entirely. 
And  upon  this  principle  he  acted,  or  tried  to  act  throughout 
his  Australian  career.  The  only  representative  of  the  fair 
sex  who  had  ever  been  seen  at  Tarragunyah  was  the  bigger 
if  not  the  better  half  of  Alexander,  the  stockman,  a  bony, 
weather-beaten  Scotchwoman  with  about  as  much  sugges- 
tion of  feminine  graces  as  a  jointed  Dutch  doll.  .  .  .  But 
now  St.  Anthony  was  to  be  dragged  from  his  cave,  and 
Hubert  was  to  be  forced  away  from  Tarragunyah. 


248  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

CHAPTER  III. 

MAMY  SEES   THE   OWNER  OP   THE   RUBY. 

It  was  not  at  the  Continental,  after  all,  that  Mamy  was 
introduced  to  the  splendours  of  a  table  dliote  in  a  first-class 
Paris  hotel.  Mrs.  Warden  had  declared  herself  in  favour  of 
the  Louvre,  which  had  not  yet  been  swallowed  up  in  the 
mighty  Magazin  du  Louvre,  and  thither  the  party  repaired 
after  a  day  full  of  entrancing  delights  to  at  least  one  among 
its  members.  Mamy  was  intoxicated  by  the  atmosphere  of 
luxury  into  which  she  had  been  plunged  since  the  morning. 
The  sight  of  the  magnificent  equipages  that  thronged  the 
tree-lined  Champs  Elysees  on  their  way  to  the  Bois,  and  an 
occasional  glimpse  of  some  especially  gracious  and  lovely 
lady  inside  (despite  her  knowledge  of  the  works  of  Balzac 
and  Dumas  Fils,  our  little  girl  was  not  versed  enough  in 
the  ways  of  the  world  to  recognise  the  queens  of  the  demi- 
monde when  she  saw  them),  were  still  in  her  mind  as 
she  took  her  seat  between  Lucy  and  her  brother  at  a 
side-table  in  the  splendid  dining-room  of  the  hotel.  She 
was  not  already  so  satiated  with  magnificence  as  to  be 
indifferent  to  the  new  phase  of  it  she  now  beheld.  A 
Boulevard  St.  Michel  Duval  was  the  grandest  type  of 
restaurant  Mamy  had  hitherto  seen ;  and  at  the  Louvre  the 
gorgeous  painted  ceiling,  the  heavy  gilding  of  the  cornices, 
the  glow  of  colour  represented  by  the  pictures  on  the  walls 
— real  suggestions  of  real  old  masters,  freshly  painted  and 
varnished^appeared  to  her  a  combination  of  palatial  pomp 
and  splendour  that  surpassed  all  her  imaginings.  It  was 
pleasant  to  experience  for  once  how  kings  and  queens  fared 
in  their  daily  lives,  for  assuredly  kings  and  queens  could 
not  sit  down  to  table  amid  grander  surroundings  than  these. 
A  little  sun-burned,  owing  to  the  lack  of  the  parasol,  her 
eyes  shining  with  the  reflection  of  all  they  absorbed  and 
were  still  absorbing,  Mamy  leant  back  in  her  chair,  and 
looked  up  at  the  ceiling  with  naive  awe  and  wonderment. 
In  this  posture  she  looked  so  like  a  seraph  let  loose  for  a 
holiday  that  she  attracted  the  notice  of  two  travellers,  who, 


MAMY  SEES  THE   OWNER  OF  THE   RUBY.      249 

it  is  needless  to  say,  were  of  the  male  sex,  and  wlio  were 
likewise  seated  at  a  little  table  in  the  vicinity  of  the  one 
selected  by  Mrs.  Warden. 

The  travellers  in  question  did  not  appear  to  find  the 
same  charm  as  Mamy  did  in  detailing  the  decorations  of  the 
dining-room,  which,  doubtless,  conveyed  no  other  impres- 
sion to  their  minds  than  that  of  furnishing  a  suitable  back- 
ground to  a  tolerable  repast.  Mamy's  personality  attx'acted 
them  more  than  the  goddesses  who  figured  in  the  pseudo 
"  old  ma.sters  "  on  the  walls ;  and,  finally,  the  younger  of 
the  two,  a  man  with  close-clii^ped  yellow  hair  and  pleasant 
blue  eyes,  remarked  approvingly  : 

"  What  a  jolly  little  girl  over  there  staring  up  at  the 
ceiling !  She's  bound  to  be  English  or  American,  though 
she  might  be  Australian,  too  ;  for  I  could  take  my  oath  I've 
seen  that  other  girl  next  to  her  somewhere — the  one  with 
the  pale  cheeks,  I  mean.  I've  seen  her  on  some  lawn  in 
Australia — at  a  cup-meeting  or  a  tennis-meeting,  I  don't 
know  which.  What  a  queer  thing  memory  is !  If  I'd  seen 
her  at  a  ball,  I  dare  say  I  shouldn't  have  known  her  again." 

The  person  addressed  looked  in  the  direction  indicated 
by  the  speaker,  but  immediately  turned  away  his  head.  He 
had  encountered  a  glance  of  pained  and  startled  bewilder- 
ment that  did  not  encourage  further  investigation.  The 
personality  of  this  individual  was  not,  indeed,  of  a  kind  to 
be  overlooked,  if  only  for  the  painful  reason  that  he  was 
not  as  other  men.  Apart,  however,  from  the  prominence  of 
his  deformity,  which  seemed  to  suggest  the  presence  of  a 
yoke  like  that  of  a  beast  of  burden  concealed  under  his  coat, 
there  was  something  in  the  face  that  immediately  impressed 
itself  upon  the  imagination.  There  are  faces  that  have  this 
peculiar  power ;  we  hardly  know  why,  though  perhaps  when 
the  secrets  of  hj^pnotism  and  magnetism  are  better  under- 
stood, the  explanation  may  be  found  in  the  simple  fact  that 
their  owners  have  compelling  wills.  Set  upon  an  ordinary 
man's  shoulders,  a  certain  rugged  attractiveness  might  have 
been  found  in  the  head ;  in  the  rough-hewn  features  and 
dark  eyes  full  of  a  smouldering  fire — eyes  that  could  not  by 
any  possibility  belong  to  a  native  of  Northern  climes,  or  to 


250  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

one  of  phlegmatic  Teutonic  origin.  Mamy  had  turned  away- 
after  an  involuntary  glance  of  half-terrified  curiosity  at 
the  strange  figure.  She  thought  that  Orson,  in  the  story  of 
Valentine  and  Orson,  might  perhaps  have  resembled  him, 
or,  for  the  matter  of  that,  the  devil  in  "Paradise  Lost." 

The  young  man  opposite  to  him  was  as  great  a  contrast 
as  a  spring  sunrise  to  a  midnight  storm.  Jack  Wilton  had 
gained  his  end,  and  congratulated  himself  both  secretly  and 
openly  upon  being  "  shown  the  ropes  "  by  such  an  authority 
as  his  friend  and  "  boss,"  the  commander.  His  respect  for 
Hubert  was  more  than  ever  increased  by  perceiving  that  he 
spoke  French  like  a  native. 

"  I'll  be  hanged  if  the  French  you  and  the  rest  of  'em 
talk  over  here  is  the  same  we  learned  at  the  grammar- 
school  ! "  he  said  naively  one  day.  "  I  was  top  of  the  French 
class,  too ;  but,  Lord  !  it's  no  particle  of  use  to  me  in  France." 

At  the  Louvre  it  was  Hubert  who  arranged  the  menu, 
and  gave  the  orders  to  the  waiter,  handing,  however,  the 
wine-card  to  his  friend  to  make  such  choice  as  might  please 
him. 

"  Lafitte  and  Mumm,"  Jack  said  diffidently,  after  a  long 
pondering  of  the  names,  many  of  which  were  unknown  to 
him  ;  "  but  if  you  Avould  rather  have  any  other  sort " 

"  Lafitte  and  Mumm  are  good  enough  for  me,"  Hubert 
said  shortly,  as  he  signed  to  the  waiter,  and  pointed  to  the 
names  selected. 

"  I  don't  see  any  Australian  wines  on  their  list,"  Mr.  Wil- 
ton said,  between  the  intervals  of  radish-crunching  and 
olive-munching.  "  I  always  believed  they  thought  such  a 
lot  of  our  wines  in  France,  judging  by  the  reports  of  the  ex- 
perts in  the  Australian  papers. 

Hubert  shrugged  his  distorted  shoulders.  It  was  the  only 
answer  he  vouchsafed,  and  Jack  continued  plaintively : 

"  You  can't  believe  a  word  they  say  in  the  papers."  Then, 
after  a  pause,  suddenly  changing  his  tone  :  "  What  a  devil- 
ish lucky  thing  our  mining  venture  was,  when  one  comes  to 
think  of  it !  Who  would  have  thought,  two  years  ago,  that 
we  shoixld  be  swelling  it  here  in  Paris  in  this  way  ?  To 
think  of  the  fortunes  that  were  lying  under  the  stones  of 


MAMY  SEES  THE   OWNER  OF  THE  RUBY.      05I 

Tarragunyah  all  the  time  we  were  bursting  ourselves  ridiiig 
after  those  blessed  cattle  !  Memory  is  a  dashed  queer  thing, 
anyhow,"  he  continued  reflectively,  reverting  once  more  to 
the  subject  of  the  Australian  appearance  of  the  people  seated 
at  the  neighbouring  table.  "  I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  tell 
where  I've  seen  that  girl  before ;  but  I'll  swear  I've  seen  her 
somewhere.  Doesn't  she  remind  you  of  anybody,  com- 
mander ? " 

"  I  can't  say  she  does,"  replied  Hubert,  after  he  had  taken  a 
second  and  more  deliberately  critical  glance  at  the  occupants 
of  Mrs.  Warden's  table  ;  "  but  the  little  girl  next  to  her  puts 
me  in  mind  somehow  of  my  youthful  days.  She's  not  un- 
like a  Greuze." 

Jack  was  not  sure  whether  a  Greuze  was  a  person  or  an 
animal,  and  thought  it  wise  to  bring  the  conversation  back 
to  the  Australian  wine  topic,  in  which  he  w^as  more  sure  of 
his  ground.  For  the  next  half-hour,  therefore,  Albury  wines, 
sugar-planting,  Chinese  labour,  Protectionist  policy,  and  the 
prospects  of  the  Northern  Territory,  formed  fertile  and  con- 
genial themes  of  discussion.  In  the  meantime  the  potag'e 
financier,  croustades  and  tourne  dos  Rossini,  and  all  the 
endless  other  pompously  and  fantastically-named  delicacies 
that  comprised  the  Louvre  mewit,  were  duly  brought  and 
disposed  of. 

At  the  neighbouring  table,  the  talk,  though  continuous, 
had  been  of  a  fragmentaiy  and  disjointed  description.  An 
occasional  burst  of  silvery  laughter,  childishly  joyous  and 
unrestrained,  from  the  little  girl  with  the  seraph  head,  had 
more  than  once  caused  people  to  turn  round  in  the  direction 
whence  it  emanated. 

It  is  true  that  there  was  nothing  to  warrant  such  ex- 
travagant mirth,  and  Mrs.  Warden  did  not  join  in  her  chil- 
dren's laughter.  She  was  discussing  Bon  Marche  mantles 
with  the  Miss  McCready  who  trimmed  her  own  bonnets ; 
and  if  she  thought  of  the  yovxng  people  at  all,  it  was  as  a 
parcel  of  children  together.  To  sujjpose  that  Sydney  was 
actually  paying  court  to  his  little  playmate  under  cover  of 
their  noisy  merriment  was  a  thing  she  would  never  have 
imagined  ;  yet  in  the  midst  of  all  her  mirth  Mamy  was  per- 
17 


252  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

fectly  aware  that  Sydney  loved  her  and  desired  her.  Per- 
haps the  feeling  was  in  a  measure  responsible  for  her  un- 
reasoning- laughter,  in  which  there  might  have  been  detected 
a  hint  of  something  unstrung  and  hysterical.  The  contrast 
between  her  own  home  surroundings  and  those  in  which 
she  found  her  friends,  the  longing  to  possess  some  of  the 
same  enjoyments  and  luxuries  as  they,  without  having 
Sydney  attached  to  them,  real  liking  and  pity  for  Sydney 
himself,  and  a  loyal  aversion  to  allow  him  to  woo  her  with 
no  warmer  feeling  for  him  in  her  heai't — all  these  warring 
emotions  required  an  outlet  of  some  kind.  If  Mamy  had 
not  laughed,  she  must  have  cried.  A  few  more  years  added 
to  her  life,  and  she  would  probably  have  acted  very  differ- 
ently. It  is  the  first  and  early  ideal  of  love  that  holds  so 
lofty  a  sway,  and  which  it  is  so  hard  to  dislodge — harder,  in- 
deed, than  a  flesh  and  blood  lover  ;  for  it  is  a  creation  of  the 
immaterial  part  of  our  natures,  and  we  have  jiut  into  it  all 
that  seems  to  render  our  individual  existences  worthy  of 
being  projected  into  a  hereafter.  Yet,  unconsciously  to 
herself,  Mamy  was  being  brought  nearer  to  Sydney  step  by 
stei>  through  the  sheer  tenacity  of  his  purpose.  Do  not 
mathematicians  describe  two  lines  that  continue  to  approach 
each  other  through  infinite  space  without  ever  actually 
meeting  ?  But  human  liearts  cannot  act  like  these  mathe- 
matical lines.  In  Hobart  Mamy  had  been  fain  to  promise 
Sydney  that  she  would  engage  herself  to  no  other  man  for  a 
whole  year.  Two-thirds  of  the  year  had  already  slipped 
away.  No  sign  of  a  lover  had  appeared  on  the  horizon,  and 
Mamy  had  willingly  renewed  her  promise  to  Sydney  that 
she  would  pledge  herself  to  him  conditionally  for  yet  an- 
other twelvemonth.  Sydney  had  little  doubt  that  at  the 
end  of  this  second  year  his  patience  would  be  finally  re- 
warded. He  was  not  of  those  whose  fancy  "  lightly  turns 
to  thoughts  of  love,"  and  he  was  sure  of  knowing  his  own 
mind.  Physiologists,  indeed,  may  maintain  that  the  love 
of  a  man  for  a  maid  is  not  called  forth  by  the  maid  herself, 
but  only  by  his  own  spring-time  mood  made  incarnate  in 
her.  Lovers  of  the  Sydney  Warden  type  are  a  refutation 
of  this  purely  physiological   theory  of  love.     The  young 


MAMY  SEES  THE   OWNER  OP  THE   RUBY.      253 

man,  indeed,  had  no  eyes  for  any  woman  save  his  child- 
hood's sweetheart,  and  the  graces  and  charms  of  other 
maidens  were  powerless  to  fire  his  imagination.  As  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  he  had  no  opportunity  of  judging,  for  he  never  be- 
stowed any  attention  upon  them.  Even  upon  the  homeward 
voyage,  during  the  long  trip  across  the  Indian  Ocean,  when 
board-ship  becomes  a  very  hot-bed  of  flirtations,  and  the 
passengers  play  at  being  in  love  as  they  watch  the  phos- 
phorus fly  through  the  foam  over  the  vessel's  sides  on  nights 
of  heat  and  darkness— even  under  such  influences  as  these 
Sydney  had  remained  faithful  to  the  one  image  he  carried 
in  his  heart.  He  would  sit  in  the  smoking-room  with  the 
elderly  card-players  while  the  sound  of  moonlight  dancing 
was  heard  on  the  deck.  In  the  day  he  would  carry  his  pipe 
and  book  to  the  fo'c's'le,  and  curl  himself  up  against  the 
bowsprit,  far  from  the  madding  crowd  on  the  hurricane 
deck.  He  was  uncouth  in  the  society  of  ladies,  and  was 
conscious  of  his  defect.  He  did  not  know  what  subjects  to 
talk  about  that  might  interest  them.  The  only  woman  with 
whom  he  had  ever  felt  entirely  at  his  ease  was  Mamy,  who 
had  introduced  herself  to  his  notice  in  the  first  instance  by 
aiming  a  potato  at  his  head.  How  well  he  remembei'ed  her 
Amazonian  attitude  on  that  occasion,  with  the  flushed  little 
face,  and  straw-tangled  hair,  and  childish  arm  uplifted  in 
the  act  of  throwing !  Young  as  he  had  been  at  the  time,  he 
had  felt  vaguely  that  the  unconventionality  of  his  first  in- 
troduction would  facilitate  his  futui'e  relations  with  her. 
Mamy  was  likewise  the  only  girl  in  whose  society  he  had 
never  felt  himself  hampered  by  any  kind  of  awkward  self- 
consciousness.  It  was  his  delight  to  picture  her  running  or 
riding  by  his  side  over  the  sheep-station  he  intended  to  pur- 
chase in  Victoria  on  his  return.  For  Mamy  was  not  only 
his  fancy  in  the  passional  sense :  he  felt  towards  her  as 
towards  a  sister,  a  mate  and  a  boon  companion  as  well.  The 
side  of  her  character  that  could  not  rest  satisfied  with  him 
for  a  husband  was  closed  to  Sydney.  Had  he  been  capable 
of  understanding  it,  he  might  have  found  it  easier  to  win  her. 
As  Mrs.  Warden's  party  prepared  to  leave  the  room,  Mamy 
cast  a  last  lingering  look  around  at  its  varied  splendours, 


254  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

and  in  so  doing  her  eyes  swept  over  the  table  where  Hubert 
and  his  friend  were  seated.  By  this  means  she  made  the 
discovery  that  the  blue  orbs  of  the  latter  were  fixed  intently 
upon  herself.  Jack  was  so  clearly  detected  in  the  act  of 
looking  his  fill,  that  he  shifted  his  gaze  with  something  of  a 
shame-faced  consciousness,  though  not  before  Mamy's  glance 
had  been  involuntarily  arrested  by  his  own.  He  saw  her 
colour  and  turn  her  head  away,  and  by  looking  in  the  mirror 
he  could  follow  her  progress  as  she  walked  out  of  the  room 
with  something  of  a  vacant  and  wondering  look  in  her  eyes 
that  he  felt  himself  responsible  for  bringing  there.  She 
gazed  no  more  at  the  glories  of  the  epergne  on  the  long  cen- 
tral table  or  the  dusky  glory  of  the  goddesses  on  the  walls. 
She  hardly  knew  herself  whether  it  was  from  elation  or  vex- 
ation that  her  heart  beat  as  she  descended  the  stairs  by  Syd- 
ney's side  and  passed  out  into  the  white  light  of  the  Louvre 
court.  She  only  knew  that  the  worshipful  admiration  she 
had  seen  depicted  in  the  ijleasant,  sunny,  manly  face  would 
stamp  that  face  upon  her  memory  for  some  time  to  come. 

Poor  little  Mamy  !  It  was  not  to  be  expected  that  in  this 
great  overflowing  world  of  Paris  she  would  ever  see  the  face 
again ;  but  even  the  fact  that  it  had  momentarily  impressed 
itself  upon  her  fancy  made  her  feel  that  it  would  be  right  for 
her  to  fortify  herself  against  Eila's  pleadings  as  regarded 
her  attitude  towards  Sydney.  Poor  Sydney !  It  was  not  his 
fault  if  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  care  about  him  in  the 
right  way.  Rather,  it  was  the  fault  of  her  own  perverse 
temperament  that  placed  all  kinds  of  obstacles  in  the  way. 
Yet  how  could  she  consent  to  bind  herself  to  him  for  ever- 
more, when  the  first  stranger  she  ran  across,  and  the  most 
unlike  him  in  appearance,  was  able  to  stimulate  her  imag- 
ination as  Sydney  had  never  done  merely  by  looking  at 
her  ? 

Mr.  Wilton  did  not  speak  for  a  few  moments  after  the 
party  of  Australians  had  disappeared.  Apparently  he  was 
engrossed  in  finishing  his  cigarette  and  in  looking  over  the 
list  of  theatres  in  the  Figaro.  He  made  no  further  allusion 
to  the  little  girl  whom  his  friend  had  compared  to  a  Greuze, 
but  studied  the  paper  while  Hubert  was  settling  the  bill  (for 


MAMY  SEES  THE   OWNER  OF  THE   RUBY.      255 

the  functions  that  come  under  the  head  of  "  shepherding  " 
include  those  of  paymaster). 

"  What  shall  we  do  with  ourselves  this  evening  ? "  he  said 
at  last  with  a  half-yawn. 

Hubert  reflected  for  a  moment. 

"  What's  going  on  at  the  Fran^ais  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  The  Frangais  !  "  repeated  Jack  interrogatively. 

"  The  Frangais— the  Theatre  Frangais,  man  !  There's  no 
better  acting  in  the  world." 

"  Isn't  there  ?  "  said  Mr.  Wilton  naively.  He  stroked  his 
blonde  moustache  with  an  embarrassed  air.  "  You'll  think 
me  a  frightful  Groth,  I  know,"  he  added,  with  a  shame-faced 
laugh  ;  "  but  I'd  rather  knock  about  some  of  the  music-halls 
to-night.  It's  better  fun.  Where  does  Judic  play  ?  And 
there's  a  place  the  fellows  used  to  tell  me  about — not  Mabille 
— the  Folies — Folies — something — it  was  called." 

"  The  Folies-Bergere,"  said  Hubert,  with  a  half-contemp- 
tuous smile ;  "  but  you  could  never  put  through  a  whole  even- 
ing there." 

"  Couldn't  I  ?    Well,  then "   Mr.  Wilton  picked  up 

the  neglected  Figaro  and  applied  himself  once  more  to  a 
laborious  study  of  its  contents.  The  result  of  his  inspection 
was  to  make  him  exclaim  an  instant  later  in  a  gleeful  voice : 
"  Here's  a  lark !  I  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  in  all  my 
born  days  !  Just  listen  to  this,  commander,  only  don't  make 
fun  of  my  accent — '  Prix  de  Beaute '  "  (he  called  it,  however, 
"  Botay  ").  Thereupon  he  read  the  announcement  i*ef erring 
to  the  exhibition  promised  for  that  evening  at  the  Folies- 
Fantassin.  "  From  what  I  can  make  out,"  he  concluded, 
"  it's  going  to  be  a  genuine  beauty  show — the  real  article,  and 
no  deception.     Let's  go  and  have  a  look  at  it." 

But  Hubert's  face  showed  little  enthusiasm. 

"  Where  is  it  ?  "  he  asked,  with  an  unmistakably  discour- 
aging intonation. 

"  Here,  you'd  better  read  it  yourself,"  replied  Mr.  Wil- 
ton, handing  him  the  Figaro.  "  Of  course,  it  may  be  all  a 
take  in,  there's  no  sa;yang ;  but  there's  a  big  sum  offered, 
anyhow." 

Hubert  made  no  further  comment  until  he  had  cast  his 


256  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

eye  over  the  announcement  without  removing  his  cigar 
from  his  lips.  Then  he  held  it  in  his  fingers,  and  a  smile  of 
half-pitying  irony  flitted  across  his  face. 

"  Beauty  and  virtue,  too !  "  he  said  meaningly.  "  Thus 
saith  the  Figaro  !  A  large  order  truly  !  but  I  have  no  doubt 
there  will  be  at  least  as  much  of  the  one  as  of  the  other.  I 
don't  remember  any  place  called  the  Folies-Fantassin  in 
my  day.  It  must  be  a  kind  of  second-rate  Eden,  I  imagine 
— the  very  place  in  which  to  look  for  a  first-class  collec- 
tion of  Rosieres.  You're  not  really  going  to  be  such  a 
fool  as  to  go  there,  Jack !  It's  all  a  hoax — take  my  word 
for  it" 

"I  don't  care;  I  want  to  go!"  said  Mr.  Wilton  obsti- 
nately ;  "  and  what's  more,  I  want  you  to  come  too :  you 
might  give  in  this  once,  commander,  and  I'll  go  anywhere 
you  want  the  rest  of  the  time.  But  I'd  rather  you  came 
with  me  to-night.  I  won't  answer  for  the  consequences  if 
you  let  me  go  alone,  I  tell  you." 

Hubert  smiled  a  second  time — a  somewhat  grim  and  bit- 
ter smile.  The  beauty  and  virtue  promised  in  the  bill 
formed  a  bait  very  appropriate  to  the  kind  of  fish  that 
nibbled  at  it.  Certainly  five  francs  for  the  stalls  and  eight 
francs  for  a  closer  inspection  of  these  attractions  on  the 
stage  itself  were  not  much  out  of  the  pockets  of  two  silver- 
kings  ;  but  Hubert  regarded  them  nevertheless  as  eight 
francs  thrown  away.  Not  so  his  companion.  There  was 
still  much  that  was  unsophisticated  in  Jack's  nature :  he 
had  spent  the  best  part  of  his  youth  hitherto  in  the  Bush, 
and  the  feeling  of  the  shearer  who  thirsts  to  knock  down  his 
cheque  in  the  nearest  township  was  not  unknown  to  him. 
The  feeling  was  strong  upon  him  to-night,  and  so  evident 
was  his  hankering  after  the  cafe -concert  seductions  that 
Hubert  said  at  last,  in  the  tone  in  which  one  would  hu- 
mour a  child  out  for  a  holiday :  "  Well,  if  nothing  else 
will  content  you  !  Only  don't  say  afterwards  that  I  didn't 
warn  you." 

"  Oh,  it's  only  for  the  fun  of  the  thing  !  "  said  the  young 
man  deprecatingly ;  he  was  beginning  to  feel  a  little 
ashamed  of  his  eagerness.     "  We  needn't  do  more  than  just 


MAMY  SEES  THE  OWNER  OP  THE   RUBY.      257 

take  a  look  in,  you  know,  and  then  come  away.  I  dare  say 
it's  all  humbug,  as  you  say." 

Hubert  nodded,  and  the  curiously  matched  pair  left  the 
hotel  and  sauntered  through  the  arcades  of  the  Palais  Royal 
and  thence  up  the  comparatively  deserted  Rue  de  Richelieu 
towards  the  Grands  Boulevards,  where  they  seated  them- 
selves in  front  of  the  Maison  Dore  and  called  for  an  ab- 
sinthe. The  air  was  becoming  a  little  chilly  for  outdoor  in- 
action, but  the  Continental  races,  who  will  shudder  at  the 
idea  of  sleeping  with  their  bedroom  windows  open  by  a  fin- 
ger's breadth  in  the  warmest  weather,  think  nothing  of 
sitting  up  to  all  hours  and  almost  in  all  seasons  in  the  damp 
night  air.  Therefore  there  were  numberless  people  grouped 
behind  the  small  tables  upon  the  pavement  outside  the  cafe. 
The  crowd  of  i)leasure  seekers  was  streaming  by  with 
faces  illumined  and  bleached  like  a  harlequin's  by  the  strong 
electric  light.  Mr.  Wilton  found  great  amusement  in 
watching  them  pass.  Hubert  sat  back  in  the  shade,  with 
his  hump  against  the  wall  and  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  paying 
little  attention  to  Jack's  comments. 

Besides  the  theatre-goers  and  ordinary  fldneurs,  there 
were  the  unmistakable  family  parties  from  across  the  Chan- 
nel who  came  to  a  standstill  before  the  brilliantly-illumi- 
nated windows  of  all  the  chocolate  shops  and  jewellers' ;  then 
there  were  the  powdered  and  perfumed  petites  dames,  who, 
albeit  most  elegantly  attired,  were  yet  abroad  wnth  an  eye 
to  business  ;  these  appeared  and  reappeared  at  regular  inter- 
vals, like  the  circular  processions  that  pass  behind  the  scenes 
in  the  tlieatre  and  then  emerge  again  upon  the  stage  ;  there 
were  also  specimens  of  the  real  genuine  boulevardier,  who 
has  an  amazing  knowledge  of  the  world  that  lies  between 
the  Madeleine  and  the  Vaudeville,  but  is  ignorant  as  a  Hot- 
tentot of  all  that  lies  beyond  it.  Jack's  attention  was  quite 
absorbed  in  watching  these  varied  specimens  of  his  kind 
defile  past  him,  though  I  will  not  answer  for  it  that  the  eyes 
of  the  little  girl  with  the  seraph  head  did  not  occasionally 
look  out  from  the  smoke-wreaths  that  went  curling  up  from 
his  second  Havana.     The  pipe  was  discarded  now. 

As  for  Hubert,  sitting  with  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  his 


258  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

thoughts  were  busy  in  a  past  in  which  Jack  had  no  share. 
To  no  one  in  the  world  had  he  spoken  of  the  scenes  in  which 
he  had  taken  part  in  the  Paris  of  the  siege  and  the  Com- 
mune. Looking  back  upon  that  time  now,  he  felt  as  though 
he  had  lived  two  distinct  lives,  and  possessed  a  distinct  per- 
sonality in  each.  In  the  first  he  had  been  young,  and  the 
enthusiasm  of  youth  for  a  lofty  ideal  might  have  animated 
his  soul  had  it  not  been  for  the  oppressive  consciousness  of 
his  bodily  affliction  that  haunted  him.  This  it  was  that  had 
poisoned  his  youth  and  dried  up  all  the  founts  of  enthusiasm 
in  his  nature.  It  had  made  a  social  and  political  rebel  of 
him.  It  had  driven  him  to  throw  in  his  cause  with  whosoever 
revolted  against  the  established  order  of  things.  He  had 
hated  the  organized  army,  whence  his  pitiable  deformity  ex- 
cluded him — hated  the  entire  existing  social  edifice,  wherein 
there  seemed  no  place  or  scope  for  one  cursed  like  himself. 
Under  the  influence  of  this  hatred  he  had  taken  part  and  lot 
with  the  Commune.  He  had  not  said  to  himself,  however, 
in  so  many  words,  "  I  hate  my  fellow-creatures  who  are 
better  off  than  myself,  and  I  will  revenge  my  mischance — 
my  own  hard  lot  in  life — upon  them ! "  On  the  contrary,  he 
had  masked  his  real  motives  even  to  himself,  and  said  (be- 
lieving that  he  was  sincere  in  saying  so),  "  I  love  my  fellow- 
creatures  who  are  worse  off  than  myself.  I  will  help  them 
to  equalize  lots  by  the  exercise  of  justifiable  violence.  A  bas 
les  bourgeois  !  and  Place  au  soleil  for  the  oppressed  ! " 

The  Commune,  however,  had  been  stamped  out  by  the 
hoofs  of  MacMahon's  chargers,  and  Hubert  was  obliged  to 
own  that  even  if  his  impulses  had  been  pure  and  unalloyed 
his  action  had  been  unwise  and  blamable.  From  the  Spen- 
cerian  and  utilitarian  standpoint,  which  judges  by  results 
alone,  it  was  without  a  plea,  for  it  had  ended  in  ruin  and 
defeat.  It  was  true  that  when  he  had  thrown  himself  so 
passionately  into  the  cause  he  had  not  foreseen  the  bloody 
issue  of  the  experiment.  He  had  fought  for  a  change  for 
the  same  reason  as  his  fellow-combatants — to  wit,  that  he 
was  miserable  and  discontented.  Only  whereas  their  ills 
were  remediable,  his  was  incurable.  An  unexpected  inher- 
itance would  have  solved  the  question  for  the  majority  of 


MAMY  SEES   THE  OWNER  OF  THE   RUBY.      259 

his  colleagues,  while  for  himself  Hubei't  had  money  and  to 
spare. 

He  had  paid  dearly  for  the  incorporation  of  his  own  per- 
sonal embitterment  with  the  holy  cause  of  freedom.  The 
accusation  that  he  had  been  taken  red-handed  on  the  dread- 
ful day  of  massacre  and  carnage  that  closed  the  Commune 
administration  had  sufficed  for  his  instant  conviction.  It 
was  not  a  time  at  which  solitary  cases  could  be  very  care- 
fully investigated,  and  perhaps  he  had  been  lucky  after  all 
to  escape  being  shot  down  in  the  streets,  as  had  been  the 
fate  of  many  an  innocent  man,  woman,  and  child,  during 
that  awful  time.  He  had  been  sent  to  New  Caledonia,  and 
upon  leaving  it  had  assumed  another  name  that  very  much 
resembled  his  own.  His  own  was  identified  with  failure 
and  disgrace,  for  though  patriote  may  be  a  better-sounding 
title  than  deporte,  it  was  still  as  a  deporte  that  he  figured  on 
the  prison-lists  of  Noumea,  and  he  who  had  been  ready — 
ostensibly — to  shed  his  blood  for  the  liberty  of  his  fellow- 
creatures,  had  been  now  deprived  by  the  law  of  his  own. 
When  the  amnesty  came  he  did  not  I'ush  back,  like  his  fel- 
low-communists, to  the  mere  jyatrie.  England  was  at  least 
as  bound  up  with  his  early  associations  as  France,  and  his 
revolutionary  ardour,  that  had  an  egoistic  foundation,  had 
had  time  to  cool.  Putting  himself  and  his  affliction  out  of 
the  question,  he  was  not  better  satisfied  with  the  conditions 
under  which  human  societies  are  organized  than  before  ;  but 
the  futility  of  seeking  to  transform  them  by  violent  means 
in  one  generation  had  been  brought  home  to  him. 

His  mother  was  dead.  He  believed  he  had  had  some 
share  in  breaking  her  heart,  and  this  to  a  man  with  Fi*ench 
blood  in  his  veins  is  one  of  the  most  appalling  reflections 
that  can  well  be  imagined.  The  actual  organization  of  the 
Republic,  with  the  mild  Grevy  at  its  head,  he  looked  upon 
as  a  mere  compromise ;  but  what  was  human  life,  or,  in- 
deed, life  altogether,  but  a  compromise  ?  Instead  of  play- 
ing the  part  of  a  disturbing  element,  and  kicking  against 
the  pricks,  he  would  go  into  the  desex't  and  hide  there. 
His  sister  had  entered  the  Order  of  Carmelites,  and  was  to 
all  intents  and  purposes  dead  to  him  and  to  the  world.     He 


2G0  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

gathered  together  such  moneys  as  he  could  procure  by  the 
sale  through  an  agent  of  his  small  property  in  France,  and 
took  up  land  on  the  New  South  Wales  border  of  Queens- 
land. Fortune  had  not  smiled  upon  him  at  first,  and  what 
with  droughts  and  bad  seasons,  Tarragunyah  station  ap- 
peared an  unlucky  investment,  until  the  afore-described 
silver  discovery  gave  to  things  quite  another  aspect. 

Hubert  Merrilies'  name  had  been  little  heard  of  before 
this  great  event  which  made  Tarragunyah  a  household 
word  in  Australia.  The  buyers  of  Tarragunyah  wool,  or  of 
cattle  with  the  Tarragunyah  brand,  hardly  knew  of  the  ex- 
istence of  the  misanthropic  hunchback  who  directed  opera- 
tions in  the  background.  Even  the  vague  rumours  of  his 
enforced  association  with  New  Caledonia  interested  nobody 
after  a  time.  He  had  known  Jack's  father  professionally 
through  an  illness  that  had  detained  him  three  months  in 
a  Sydney  hotel  soon  after  his  arrival  in  Australia,  and  had 
made  an  exception  in  the  lad's  favour  to  his  rule  of  allow- 
ing no  gentleman-loafer,  or  gentleman  in  any  other  capa- 
city, to  show  his  face  at  Tarragunyah.  Jack  showed  his 
appreciation  of  the  favour  by  proving  himself  an  energetic 
and  useful  aid,  and  an  unfailingly  cheerful  companion. 
Hubert  was  an  oracle  in  the  lad's  eyes.  A  certain  sideway 
shrug  of  his  protruding  shoulder  had  an  almost  magical 
effect  in  carrying  instant  conviction  or  refutation  to  Jack's 
mind.  Even  this  evening  Mr.  Wilton  had  been  almost 
"  choked  off,"  as  he  would  have  called  it  himself,  by  Hu- 
bert's attitude  with  regard  to  the  Folies-Fantassin  exhibi- 
tion. He  had  held  his  ground,  nevertheless,  for  the  matter 
was  one  which  really  aroused  his  curiosity.  He  had  seen 
cattle  and  sheep  shows  by  the  score ;  he  had  heard  of  cat- 
shows  and  baby-shows;  but  an  exhibition  of  professional 
beauties,  whose  attractions  were  to  be  reviewed  and  ap- 
praised in  cold  blood,  was  a  decided  novelty.  It  would  be 
something  new  to  tell  the  fellows  about  out  in  Australia, 
and  now  that  it  was  settled  there  could  be  no  motive  for 
going  back  upon  it. 

Thus  argued  Jack  with  himself  as,  somewhere  about  ten 
o'clock  that  evening,  he  left  the  cafe  and  took  his  seat  by 


EILA'S  ORDEAL.  261 

Hubert's  side  in  a  passing  carriage  hailed  upon  the  boule- 
vard. The  streets  that  had  seemed  so  steep  and  tortuous  to 
Eila,  making  her  way  up  them  with  trembling  knees  and  a 
failing  heart,  were  quickly  traversed  in  a  cab.  Jack  was 
still  secretly  nursing  the  opinion  that  this  was  the  kind  of 
spree  he  liked  as  he  followed  Hubert  down  the  narrow  en- 
trance to  the  turnstile  where  the  tickets  were  sold. 

"  Take  one  for  the  stage,"  he  whispered,  as  he  waited  an 
instant  by  Hubert's  side  while  the  latter  was  paying  for  the 
places,  "  then  I  can  go  up  and  sling  'em  some  parley -voo, 
you  know." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

eila's  ordeal. 

Upon  entering  the  theatre,  Hubert  perceived  that  his  pre- 
diction that  the  Folies-Fantassin  would  prove  to  be  a  kind 
of  second-class  Eden  was  verified.  Besides  the  pit  and  stalls, 
there  was  but  one  gallery  or  dress-circle,  which  widened  out 
in  the  rear  into  a  carpeted  space  where  the  spectators  sat  as 
in  a  cafe  before  small  tables,  at  which  they  might  drink  and 
smoke  at  their  ease.  The  entire  theatre  would  not  have  con- 
tained more  than  a  thousand  people.  There  were  private 
boxes  under  the  gallery,  of  which  the  occupant  was  gener- 
ally a  lady,  either  alone  or  accompanied  by  a  duenna.  In 
either  case  she  was  sure  to  be  dressed  in  the  height  of  the 
reigning  fashion,  and  to  wear  also  a  fashion-book  complex- 
ion. The  decorations  of  the  Folies-Fantassin  were  Moorish, 
and  they  might  have  been  re])roached  with  an  exaggeration 
of  local  colour  in  respect  of  their  want  of  cleanliness.  Now, 
the  shade  that  gathers  upon  real  mouch-arabia,  upon  ala- 
baster or  enamel,  in  the  genuine  East,  is  one  thing,  and 
that  which  disfigiu'es  painted  imitations  of  the  same  is  an- 
other. A  little  less  local  colour  in  this  respect  would  have 
greatly  improved  the  appearance  of  the  Folies-Fantassin, 
which,  to  do  it  justice,  was  not  otherwise  inartistically  ar- 
ranged and  devised. 


262  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

There  was  an  acrobatic  performance  going  on  as  Hubert 
and  his  friend  entered.  A  female  trapezist  was  hanging  by 
her  two  pink-silk-encased  legs  to  a  horizonal  bar,  swinging 
from  the  roof  of  the  stage.  With  her  head  downwards  and  her 
muscular  arms  extended  in  the  same  direction,  she  was  hold- 
ing another  female  acrobat  by  the  hands,  swinging  her  slowly 
backwards  and  forwards  like  a  pendulum  in  the  void.  There 
was  no  net,  and  the  problem  that  thrilled  the  spectators  all 
down  their  backs,  giving  them  their  full  money's  worth  of 
"sensation,"  was  how  the  held-up  woman  was  to  escape  break- 
ing her  neck.  To  get  into  her  perilous  position  had  been  com- 
paratively easy,  but  to  get  out  of  it  was  another  matter. 
After  several  long  slow  swings  backwards  and  forwards, 
she  solved  the  problem  by  raising  herself  at  the  cost  of  an 
effort  that  caused  the  muscles  in  her  arms  to  rise  like  hil- 
locks, throwing  her  legs  meanwhile  around  the  waist  of  the 
trapezist  who  was  holding  her.  The  strain  to  which  the 
former  was  subjected  was  plainly  and  painfully  written  to 
the  gaze  of  those  below  in  her  pink-silk  calves,  and  more 
than  one  feminine  spectator  turned  away  her  head  with  an 
involuntary  "  Misericorde  I  "  as  the  interlocked  bodies  of  the 
trapezists  oscillated  in  the  void. 

"  By  George  ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Wilton,  "  they're  plucked 
uns,  those  two,  and  no  mistake ! "  For  the  next  few  mo- 
ments he  forgot  all  about  the  purpose  for  which  he  had 
come,  in  the  interest  of  watching  the  trapezists,  who,  by  way 
of  what  is  vulgarly  termed  "piling  up  the  agony,"  went 
through  two  or  three  elaborately-feigned,  blood-curdling  es- 
capes, before  they  swung  themselves  into  the  comparatively 
secure  position  of  a  seat  upon  the  horizontal  bar.  A  cafe 
concert-song  followed  next,  sung,  or  rather  declaimed,  by  an 
imitator  of  Paulus,  with  a  clean-shaved  face  and  a  marvel- 
lously mobile  mouth  that  conveyed  volumes  of  meaning  in 
its  faintest  twist.  To  translate  the  words  to  Mr.  Wilton's 
satisfaction  was  not  an  easy  task,  for  they  were  made  up  of 
a  kind  of  argot  that  had  not  been  in  vogue  in  Hubert's  time. 
After  this  song  had  been  encored,  and  the  audience  had 
clamoured  for  "  Le  voila !  Nicholas !  Ah  !  ah  !  ah  ! "  the 
curtain  fell,  and  Jack  amused  himself  by  endeavouring  to 


EILA'S  ORDEAL.  263 

decipher  the  meaning  of  the  various  advertisements  that  cov- 
ered it.  He  was  laboriously  spelling  out  the  words  beneath 
the  effigy  of  a  woman  in  a  cap,  holding  a  carefully  stiffened 
infant  in  her  arms,  when  the  curtain  was  drawn  up  a  second 
time,  and  the  audience  beheld  ten  seats  arranged  in  a  half- 
moon,  fronting  the  stage,  whereon  ten  ladies  were  en- 
sconced, each  in  a  costume  of  a  more  or  less  fancy  descrip- 
tion. At  the  same  moment  the  orchestra  struck  up  the 
waltz  from  "  Faust,"  and  a  Bengal  light  being  adroitly 
caused  to  flare  up  behind  the  stage,  the  young  women  were 
bathed  in  a  rose-coloured  atmosphere  that  greatly  enhanced 
their  charms. 

"  What  a  lark ! "  Jack  Wilton  said  again.  He  had 
screwed  the  opera-glass  he  had  hired  at  the  door  to  the  re- 
quired focus,  and  was  sweeping  it  carefully  along  the  range 
of  human  exhibits,  as  he  was  accustomed  to  do  when  fol- 
lowing the  horses  he  had  backed  in  a  race.  "  I  guess  you 
were  about  right  though,  commander,"  lie  added  in  disap- 
pointed tones.  "  I  can't  spot  more  than  one  or  two  good- 
looking  girls  in  the  lot  I " 

"  There  is  only  one,"  said  Hubert  indifferently. 

He  made  use  of  no  opera-glass,  having  eyes  that  for  accu- 
racy and  sweep  of  vision  could  almost  have  vied  with  those 
of  the  black-fellows  on  his  station  of  Tarragunyah,  but  kept 
his  gaze  fixed  upon  the  central  figure  of  the  group,  whom 
he  had  immediately  singled  out  from  the  fact  that  it  seemed 
to  bear  an  entirely  distinct  personality  of  its  own. 

The  competing  beauties  had  been  arranged  in  crescent 
order  by  Monsieur  Masse  himself.  This  second-rate  manager 
of  a  second-rate  music-hall  had  dreamed  in  his  youthful 
days  of  leaping  into  fame  by  painting  a  fifty-foot  square 
canvas  for  the  Salon,  portraying  Jezebel's  doom.  The  jury, 
however,  had  refused  to  be  impressed  by  Jezebel's  "  defenes- 
tration," and  Monsieur  Mas.se  had  turned  actor  in  disgust. 
He  retained,  however,  a  certain  experience  in  the  combining 
of  colours,  and  had  himself  designed  the  costumes  for  the 
fair  candidates,  as  well  as  the  particular  arrangement  of 
liair,  either  real  or  false,  that  was  to  accompany  these.  He 
had  decided  at  a  glance  who  was  fitted  to  assume  the  rdle  of 


264:  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

a  Sultana,  and  who  might  pass  muster  as  Salammbo.  Over 
Eila's  costume  he  had  pondered  longer  than  the  others, 
being  perplexed,  not  so  much  uj)on  the  score  of  what  would 
suit  her,  as  of  what  would  suit  her  best.  His  imagination 
had  run  riot  for  a  while  among  Cleopatras,  Byzantine 
virgins,  and  Venuses ;  but  finally  he  had  decided  in  favour 
of  the  disguise  in  which  she  appeared  to  Hubert's  eyes  to- 
night. She  had  made  no  protest  on  the  score  of  its  appro- 
priateness ;  had  it  been  a  shirt  of  Nessus  instead  of  a  leopard- 
skin,  it  would  have  been  all  one  to  her.  Her  resolution  once 
taken,  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  accept  all  the  conse- 
quences it  might  entail.  Thus  it  was  in  the  special  dress  de- 
vised for  her  by  Monsieur  Masse  that  she  was  on  view  this 
evening  behind  the  footlights,  like  "  poor  LoiTaine-Loree," 
for  all  the  world  to  see.  Dress  is,  perhaps,  too  elaborate  a 
term  to  be  api^lied  to  her  attire,  which  was  none  other  than 
that  of  a  mythological  Bacchante,  as  interpreted  by  the 
canons  of  art  that  ruled  at  the  Folies-Fantassin.  An  imita- 
tion leopard-skin,  with  properly  jagged  edges,  though  ex- 
quisitely supple  in  texture,  was  girded  round  her  body  to 
below  the  knee,  leaving  disclosed,  as  in  the  dress  of  Mignon 
at  the  opera,  ostensibly  bare  feet,  modelled  like  those  of  a 
Greek  statue.  The  neck  and  the  whole  of  one  polished  arm 
and  shoulder  were  bared  in  their  marble  whiteness.  A  mass 
of  half-curling,  half-waving  dark  hair,  streaked  with  warm 
gleams  of  gold,  streamed  over  her  back  and  hips.  The  head 
was  crowned  with  red-splashed  vine-leaves  that  formed  a 
narrow  circlet  round  the  temples,  while  a  pendent  tendril 
mingled  its  tiny  sprouts  with  the  coils  of  loosened  hair.  In 
her  i^ight  hand  she  held  an  antique  cup  half  filled  with  a 
red  liquid,  which  she  had  been  instructed  to  hold  aloft  in- 
vitingly at  a  specified  bar  of  the  waltz  from  "  Faust."  Faith- 
ful to  tradition  as  her  pose  and  her  attire  might  appear, 
Eila's  expression  was  powerless  to  render  the  true  Bacchante 
suggestion.  Her  look  was  rather  that  of  a  person  whose 
mind  has  soared  to  some  far-away  region,  and  is  no  longer 
in  touch  with  its  material  surroundings. 

We  all  know  what  it  is,  when  thinking  deeply  upon  some 
abstract  subject,  to  find  that  our  eyes  are  fixed  upon  vacancy. 


EILA'S  ORDEAL.  265 

The  gaze  of  a  person  looking  at  nothing,  or  of  one  looking 
inwardly  rather  than  outwardly,  seems  to  remove  him  far 
from  those  about  him ;  and  so  entirely  was  this  impression 
conveyed  by  Eila's  eyes  to-night,  that  all  the  efforts  of  the 
spectators  to  intercept  her  glance  seemed  to  be- in  vain.  The 
colour  in  her  cheeks,  despite  the  tinge  of  rouge  that  had 
been  applied  to  them,  was  but  faint ;  yet  the  line  of  her  lips 
was  a  vivid  crimson.  It  was  not  long  before  the  Fatimas, 
Sultanas,  Gitanas,  and  other  cigar-box  beauties  to  the  right 
and  left  of  her,  were  forgotten.  After  a  very  few  minutes, 
all  eyes  and  all  glasses  were  directed  towards  the  beautiful 
Bacchante  sitting  steadfast  on  her  simulated  rock  in  the 
centre  of  the  stage.  Her  expression  puzzled  and  disconcerted 
the  audience.  "  C'est  une  pose ! "  Hubert  heard  a  man  next 
to  him  say.  But  was  it  a  pose,  or  was  she  acting  uncon- 
sciously in  a  kind  of  hypnotic  trance  ?  He  fixed  his  eyes 
upon  her  with  a  searching  look— such  a  look  as  had  enabled 
him,  in  times  gone  by,  to  distinguish  a  crouching  native 
from  a  charred  tree-stump  in  the  far  north  of  Australia 
(surely  one  of  the  hardest  feats  that  eyes  of  white  man  ever 
accomplished) ;  but  no  sign  of  a  pose  could  he  detect.  The 
red  lips  were  compressed  as  though  tliey  held  a  secret  that 
none  might  learn — a  secret  too  distressful  to  be  told  ;  the 
far-away  look,  if  it  were  simulated,  was  yet  such  a  look  as  a 
painter  might  have  chosen  for  a  Joan  of  Arc  rather  than  for 
a  music-hall  cabotine.  The  look  that  a  soldier  led  forth  to 
be  shot  might  wear  when  the  ring  of  muskets  closes  round 
him  Avas  what  it  most  suggested  to  Hubert's  mind — a  soldier 
who  had  made  up  his  mind,  Heaven  knew  at  what  cost,  to 
die  bravely  without  allowing  his  eyes  to  be  bandaged,  yet 
could  not  bring  himself  to  direct  them  towards  the  instru- 
ments of  torture  and  death  that  were  levelled  at  him.  The  ex- 
pressions of  the  remaining  women  were  all  marked  by  a  cer- 
tain family  resemblance.  Whether  simply  brazen,  or  wear- 
ing a  feigned  coyness,  they  were  alike  stamped  with  the  same 
brand.  Those  who  had  good  teeth  assumed  a  mirthless  smile. 
After  some  ten  minutes  had  elapsed,  the  holders  of  red 
tickets  among  the  spectators  were  allowed  to  mount  upon  the 
stage,  which  was  speedily  filled  to  overflowing. 


266  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

Like  the  fair  and  legendary  Eve  when  slie  first  perceived 
that  she  was  without  raiment  in  the  Garden  of  Eden,  so  felt 
Eila  in  her  Bacchante  costume  in  the  midst  of  the  staring 
crowd.  The  glare  of  the  gas,  the  heat  of  the  footlights,  the 
atmosphere  reeking  with  cigar-smoke  and  patchouli,  her 
own  overwhelming  emotion  and  fear,  f)erhaps,  too,  the  fact 
that  a  diet  of  indiarubber  bread  and  much  diluted  bone  soup 
does  not  conduce  to  physical  strength — all  these  causes  com- 
bined were  beginning  to  produce  their  effect.  A  curious  diz- 
ziness was  creeping  over  her,  a  sense  of  drowsy  torpor  she 
had  never  felt  before.  The  people  and  the  lights  in  front 
of  her  grew  blurred  and  indistinct ;  the  red  points  of  the 
cigars  seemed  to  trace  fiery  circles  upon  a  dark  background  ; 
her  head  bent  forward,  lower  and  lower,  while  her  cheeks 
grew  whiter  and  whiter.  The  last  thing  she  was  conscious 
of  was  that  her  face  seemed  to  have  grown  suddenly  cold  ; 
an  instant  later  everything  around  her  was  dark.  Sight  and 
hearing  were  alike  gone.  She  had  swooned  away  into  un- 
reaclmble,  infinite  night. 

Whence  she  came  back  a  few  minutes  afterwards,  when 
her  eyes  again  took  cognizance  of  their  earthly  surround- 
ings, she  never  knew.  She  could  not  even  think  of  it  with- 
out a  shudder,  for  it  seemed  to  her  as  though  she  had  re- 
turned from  never-ending  blank  space,  and  that  she  had 
been  lost  for  a  time  in  a  black  and  limitless  void.  The  feel- 
ing was  one  to  be  felt  rather  than  described.  Gradually, 
however,  the  perception  of  the  tangible  objects  around  her 
returned.  She  found  herself  lying  back  upon  a  bench  with  a 
cushion  under  her  head.  Her  forehead  and  temples  were  wet, 
and  there  was  a  strong  odour  of  eau-de-Cologne  and  brandy 
in  the  air.  Someone  standing  by  her  side,  who  hardly 
seemed  like  a  real  personage  at  first,  but  rather  like  a  con- 
tinuation of  her  dream,  was  trying  to  keep  back  the  crowd 
that  pressed  arovxnd  her. 

"  II  lui  faut  de  I'air ! "  she  heard  him  say  in  imperative 
tones.     "  C'est  surtout  de  I'air  qu'il  lui  faut ! " 

Next  he  addressed  himself  to  a  fair-moustached  youth, 
standing  tall  and  shy  by  his  side,  and  this  time  he  spoke  in 
English, 


EILA'S  ORDEAL.  267 

"  Keep  them  off  if  you  can,"  he  said  ;  "  these  brutes  are 
stifling  her  amongst  them." 

The  sound  of  the  Enghsh  voice  acted  like  a  charm  upon 
the  prostrate  Bacchante.  She  made  an  effort  to  raise  herself 
from  her  recumbent  position,  while  a  warm  flush  of  shame 
mounted  to  her  temples. .  Hubert  saw  the  attempt,  and  im- 
mediately came  to  her  assistance.  As  she  raised  herself  to 
her  feet  with  the  aid  of  his  outstretched  hands,  she  essayed 
to  thank  him. 

"  Oh,  you  are  English  !  "  she  said  eagerly,  in  a  voice  that 
trembled,  in  spite  of  all  her  efforts  to  command  it.  ''  I  heard 
you  speaking  just  now.  Oh,  do  help  me  !  I  want  so  to  get 
away  from  this  place  !  I  am  afraid  I  did  a  very  foolish  thing 
in  coming.  It  was  only  to  earn  a  little  money  for  them  at 
home,  indeed,  and  I  thought  it  would  be  a  kind  of  tableau 
vivant — nothing  more — and  that  I  might  come  away  directly 
the  curtain  fell." 

She  was  talking  rapidly,  almost  incoherently.  The  horror 
of  anybody  supposing  that  she  had  come  there  with  another 
motive  than  the  real  one  was  more  than  she  could  endure. 
What  would  Reginald  say  if  he  could  see  her  now  ?  In- 
stinctively she  covered  her  face  Avith  her  hands  and  sobbed. 

Hubert  answered  her  gravely,  but  not  unkindly. 

"  Don't  distress  yourself.  You  can  leave  when  you  like. 
Are  you  " — he  hesitated — "  are  you  quite  alone  ?  " 

"  Yes,  quite.  They  don't  know  where  I  am  at  home. 
They  haven't  the  least  idea,  and  I  would  not  have  them  know 
for  anything.  Oh,  please,  do  you  think  I  might  get  away 
now  'i " 

She  looked  up  at  him  imploringly.  It  was,  perhaps,  the 
first  time  in  his  life  that  Hubert  de  Merle  had  been  apijealed 
to  thus  by  a  woman  for  help  and  protection.  Women  as  a 
rule  shrank  away  from  him.  Even  the  most  considerate 
tortured  him  unconsciously  by  the  efforts  they  made  not  to 
seem  aware  of  his  deformity.  He  did  not  know  to  what  an 
extent  his  own  morbid  susceptibility  was  responsible  for 
their  attitude,  nor  how  it  reacted  upon  all  those  with  whom 
he  came  into  contact,  rendering  it  impossible  for  them  to 
feel  at  ease  with  him.  However  this  might  be,  to  play  the 
18 


268 


NOT   COUNTING   THE   COST. 


part  of  a  rescuing  knig-ht  to  •  a  beautiful  damsel  in  distress 
was  a  thing  undreamed  of  in  his  experience.  He  was  reas- 
sured at  the  same  time  by  feeling  that  the  Bacchante  who 
sought  his  assistance  really  paid  no  heed  to  his  appearance. 
She  was  evidently  prepared  to  look  upon  him  in  the  light  of 
a  deliverer,  and  as  such  she  gave  no  thought  to  his  "  ques- 
tionable shape."  These  reflections,  which  passed  with  light- 
ning speed  through  Hubert's  brain,  gave  him  such  unwonted 
assurance  that  he  exclaimed  cordially  : 

"  Get  away  ?  Of  course  you  can  !  Who  has  any  right 
to  stop  you  ?  Will  you  take  my  arm  through  the  crowd  and 
let  me  see  you  safely  out  ? '' 

Eila  jumped  at  the  olfer,  metaphorically  speaking,  for,  in 
point  of  fact,  her  knees  were  trembling  from  fatigue  and 
agitation  ;  but  she  could  not  make  her  escape  in  the  Bac- 
chante disguise,  with  no  other  head-covering  than  a  wreath 
of  artificial  vine-leaves. 

"  I  must  leave  my  costume  here,"  she  explained,  "  it  is 
not  my  own ;  and  my  other  things  are  in  a  room  behind  the 
scenes." 

Hubert  offered  to  conduct  her  to  the  dressing-room,  and 
wait  for  her  while  she  put  on  her  every-day  attire.  Their 
conversation  had  lasted  but  a  few  seconds.  The  crowd  that 
pressed  around  thera,  without  gathering  its  purport,  was  only 
aware  that  an  understanding  had  been  come  to  between  the 
beautiful  Bacchante  and  the  deformed  hunchback.  Already 
an  audible  whisper  of  "La  Belle  et  la  Bete,"  accompanied  by 
a  cynical  laugh,  had  reached  Eila's  ears,  and  made  her  heart 
sink  for  her  companion. 

But  Hubert  was  quite  unheeding.  He  turned  to  the  fair- 
moustached  youth,  who  had  remained  by  his  side,  silently 
watching  the  interview  with  a  countenance  in  which  pity, 
admiration,  bewilderment,  and  doubt  were  all  naively  ex- 
pressed, and  said  imperiously : 

"  Call  a  cab,  will  you,  Wilton,  and  have  it  waiting  out- 
side when  I  bring  this  lady  out." 

Jack  disappeared  in  an  instant.  But  it  was  one  thing  to 
order  a  cab,  and  another  to  reach  it.  Monsieur  Masse,  the 
director,  incited  by  the  holders  of  the  red  tickets,  who  had 


EILA'S  ORDEAL.  269 

paid  their  money  for  the  express  purpose  of  forming  a  closer 
acquaintanceship  with  the  candidates  for  the  prize  of  beauty 
on  exhibition  at  the  Folies-Fantassin,  was  less  amenable.  A 
formal  resistance  was  made  to  the  Bacchante's  exit,  and  it 
needed  all  Hubert's  knowledge  of  his  language  and  of  his 
countrymen  to  enable  him  to  carry  on  single-handed  the 
battle  in  her  behalf.  He  almost  thought  at  one  moment  that 
he  should  have  to  attempt  some  feat  of  the  kind  in  which 
Ouida's  heroes  excel,  to  clear  a  passage  for  her. 

She  stood  meanwhile,  trembling  and  very  pale,  by  his 
side.  It  was  by  dint  eventually  of  representing  himself  as 
a  friend  and  "parent"  of  mademoiselle's — an  inspiration  of 
the  moment  wherein  he  little  guessed  that  thei*e  was  any 
actual  substratum  of  truth — that  he  succeeded  in  leading 
her  away.  She  clung  gratefully  to  his  arm,  and  for  once 
Hubert  almost  forgot  that  he  occupied  among  his  fellow- 
men  the  place  that  Vulcan  occupied  among  the  gods  when 
they  derided  him  in  Olympia.  The  dressing-rooms  of  the 
Folies-Fantassin,  no  larger  than  cupboards,  were  in  the  rear 
of  the  stage.  By  dint  of  inquiries  on  the  way,  he  was  en- 
abled to  lead  the  Bacchante  thither  without  obstruction. 
Before  she  disappeared  behind  the  shabby  curtain  that 
screened  the  cabin  she  recognised  as  her  own,  Eila  paused. 
There  was  evidently  something  on  her  mind  that  she  longed 
yet  feared  to  communicate. 

"  I  can't  thank  you  enough,"  she  said,  with  a  qviaver  in 
her  voice  ;  "  but — but  I  hardly  know  how  to  say  it — only  I 
did  hope  so  niuch  that  perhaps  one  of  the  prizes — there  is  a 
second  one,  you  know,  of  eiglity  pounds — might  have  been 
awarded  to  me.  It  was  only  in  that  hope  I  came ;  and  how 
am  I  ever  to  find  out  if  I  go  away  now  ?  Perhaps  they  will 
say  I  have  forfeited  it." 

Her  tones  faltered.     Hubert  reassured  her  once  more. 

"  I'll  find  out  at  once  for  you  if  you  like,"  he  said,  "only 
you  had  better  wait  here  until  I  come  back." 

The  cordiality  of  his  tone,  the  ready  courtesy  of  his  man- 
ner, in  which  he  seemed  to  take  it  for  granted  that  he  must 
treat  her  as  a  gentleman  is  wont  to  treat  a  woman  and  a 
lady,  were  indescribably  grateful  to  her.     She  thanked  him 


270  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

l)y  her  look,  more  eloquently  than  by  her  words,  and  twenty 
minutes  later— a  very  long-  twenty  minutes  they  seemed,  for 
before  the  first  ten  had  elapsed  she  was  already  clad  in  her 
ordinary  attire,  and  the  Bacchante  leopard-skin  (not  her 
own  property  this)  had  been  handed  over  to  the  dresser  who 
claimed  it— she  heard  his  voice  again. 

A  terrible  misgiving,  a  mighty  panic,  had  assailed  her  as 
slie  waited  alone.  Wliat  if  he  should  have  gone  away  and 
left  her  to  her  fate  ?  How  should  she  ever  find  the  courage 
to  face  that  terrifying  crowd  again,  and  try  to  discover  for 
herself  whether  she  had  gained  a  prize  ? 

Her  face  was  pale  with  apprehension  as  she  emerged 
from  behind  the  curtain  at  the  sound  of  Hubert's  voice.  He 
could  not  refrain  from  taking  a  sharp  and  rapid  survey  of 
her  as  she  came  out  into  the  narrow  descending  corridor, 
deserted  by  everyone  save  a  dresser  and  a  scene-shifter,  who 
cast  curious  glances  in  his  direction.  He  motioned  her  to 
walk  a  little  farther  down  the  passage,  where  they  might 
talk  at  their  ease.  She  understood  that  he  had  come  to  tell 
her  the  result  of  his  self-imposed  mission,  and  followed  him 
in  trembling  expectation.  One  swift  glance  had  satisfied 
him  that  she  was  not  a  whit  less  pretty  clothed  and  in  her 
right  mind  than  before — that  is  to  say,  in  a  shabby  ulster 
and  low,  round  straw  hat,  instead  of  in  a  leopard-skin  and 
vine-leaves ;  and  there  was  assuredly  something  infinitely 
pitiful  in  the  air  of  over-weening  anxiety  with  which  she 
turned  toward  him  and  mutely  questioned  his  face.  Among 
the  lies  which  the  recording  angel  effaces  with  a  tear,  I 
think  Hubert  de  Merle's  lie  that  night  may  be  considered 
deserving  of  a  place.  What  ulterior  purpose  the  director  of 
the  Folies-Fantassin  might  have  had  in  promising  a  five- 
thousand-franc  prize,  which  he  certainly  could  have  had  no 
intention  of  paying,  Mr.  de  Merle  did  not  stop  to  consider. 

From  the  investigations  he  made  during  those  long 
twenty  minutes  while  Eila  waited  for  him  in  the  so-called 
dressing-room,  he  discovered  that  the  appearance  of  the 
human  exhibits  upon  the  stage  was  merely  the  fu"st  step  in  a 
speculation  of  a  Circassian  slave-mart  order.  Not  that  the 
young  ladies  who  competed  for  the  prize  could  be  in  any 


EILA'S  ORDEAL.  271 

way  compared  to  ignorant  helpless  slaves.  They  knew  per- 
fectly well  what  they  were  about  when  they  lent  their 
willing  co-operation  to  the  speculation  in  question.  They 
considered  that  if  the  director  of  the  Folies-Fantassin  had 
an  eye  to  his  own  benefit  in  the  transaction,  the  opportunity 
he  afforded  them  of  advertising  their  attractions  was  a 
direct  benefit  to  them,  and  they  were  the  more  indifferent 
to  the  bait  held  out  in  the  shape  of  a  prize  that  they  looked 
upon  the  Prix  de  Beaute  competition  as  a  means  and  not  as 
an  end.  This  was  why,  when  Hubert  went  to  interview  the 
director,  he  was  received  with  a  series  of  shrugs  that  entirely 
and  successfully  evaded  dealing  with  the  point  in  question. 
All  that  could  be  gathered  was  that  ces  dames  were  alto- 
gether content  with  the  conditions  imposed  upon  them ;  that 
they  had  unlimited  confidence  in  their  director ;  that  the 
result  of  the  votes  could  not  possibly  be  known  until  the 
ladies  had  afforded  the  jury  more  ample  opportunities  of 
forming  an  opinion ;  that  the  charmante  demoiselle  who 
had  had  the  misfortune  to  be  indisposed  must  present  her- 
self again  before  she  could  hope  to  obtain  a  favourable  ver- 
dict, and  that  one  of  the  conditions  attached  to  the  exhibi- 
tion was  that  the  portrait  of  the  winner  of  the  prize  should 
be  exhibited  in  all  the  shop-windows,  with  her  signature. 

Hubert  did  not  wait  to  hear  more.  He  made  up  his  mind 
instantly.  He  went  back  to  the  Bacchante,  and  in  answer 
to  the  eager  inquiry  he  read  in  her  eyes — for  she  was  too 
overcome  to  speak — he  replied,  with  well-disguised  assiu'- 
ance :  "Well !  I  have  good  news  for  you.  It  seems  I  must 
congratulate  you  upon  having  won  the  first  prize.  Five 
thousand  francs,  is  not  that  it  ?  " 

In  yielding  to  the  quixotic  impulse  that  led  him  upon 
the  spur  of  the  moment  to  fabricate  this  tremendous  false- 
hood, Hubert  was  not  jjrepared  for  the  immediate  conse- 
quences that  ensued.  The  Bacchante  —  a  Bacchante  no 
longer,  but  a  poorly-dressed,  sweet-visaged  young  woman, 
with  most  eloquent  eyes— broke  down  completely  at  the 
news.  Leaning  against  the  stained  wall  of  the  narrow  cor- 
ridor, dimly  lighted  by  sparse  jets  of  flickering  gas,  she  had 
covered  her  face  with  her  handkerchief,  and  was  weeping 


272  NOT  COUNTING   THE   COST. 

into  it  with  the  abandonment  of  a  child  who  has  been  un- 
duly punished.  The  convulsive  sobbing,  that  could  not  be 
repressed,  told  of  a  previous  strain  of  cruel  intensity.  What 
must  she  not  have  suffered  before  she  had  nerved  herself  to 
go  through  the  terrible  ordeal  of  this  evening  ?  The  anguish 
of  pent-up  shame,  as  well  as  the  bliss  of  a  great  deliverance, 
found  expression  in  her  tears.  Hubert  allowed  her  to  have 
her  cry  out  in  silence.  He  did  not  regret  his  lie  of  a  mo- 
ment ago.  It  was  God's  truth,  if  not  the  stage-director's,  that 
he  had  uttered,  for  fairer  than  she  he  had  never,  seen— not 
on  the  ignoble  stage  of  tlie  Folies-Fantassin  alone,  but  in 
the  whole  wide  world.  But  how  should'he  carry  his  fiction 
to  its  completion  without  detection  ?  How  make  it  appear 
that  the  five  thousand  francs  he  intended  to  bestow  upon  the 
Bacchante  (upon  the  Bacchante  ?— no,  a  thousand  times  no  ! 
but  upon  this  poor  weeping  child  by  his  side)  had  been  sent 
to  her  by  the  administration  of  the  theatre  instead  of  by 
himself  ?  Hubert  was  a  man  of  ready  resources.  The  dif- 
ficulty had  hardly  presented  itself  before  he  had  concocted 
a  plan  for  meeting  it  in  the  short  interval  during  which 
Eila  was  wiping  her  eyes  and  framing  her  broken  apologies. 

"  Don't  mind ! '"  he  said  ;  "  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  if 
you  are  a  little  unnerved.  This  is  no  place  for  you  to  be  in, 
you  know." 

His  manner  was  elder-brotherly  and  kind  in  the  extreme, 
just  such  a  manner  as  the  Beast  might  have  had  wlien  the 
distracted  Beauty  was  weeping  in  his  eiachanted  palace  for 
her  home. 

Eila  hung  her  head.  "  I  know — it  isn't,"  she  said,  catch- 
ing her  breath  painfully ;  "  but  the  money — was  so  badly 
needed — you  can't  think  !  Things  happened  we  could  never 
have  expected,  and  now  we  are  saved."  A  look  of  almost 
incredulous  joy  ilKimined  her  countenance.  "  Only  it  seems 
too  good  to  be  true.  I  can  hardly  believe  it  even  now. 
Would  you  mind  telling  it  me  just  once  again  ? " 

"  Telling  you  what  ? "  When  Hubert  was  amused,  his 
face  lost  its  expression  of  sullen  defiance,  and  became  hu- 
man again.  "  That  you  are  to  receive  five  thousand  francs 
for  being  the  '  fairest  of  the  fair '  ?    I  have  told  you  that 


BILA'S  ORDEAL.  273 

already.  What  a  sceptical  person  you  are !  But  I  suppose 
you  want  me  to  give  you  the  details  ?  Well,  then,  the 
money  is  to  be  sent  you  in  a  registered  letter  to-morrow,  as 
you  did  not  choose  to  stay  and  receive  it  in  public.  Only 
you  must  be  at  home  to  receive  it.  I  got  all  the  particulars 
upon  the  score  of  my  being  a  'parent,'  you  remember.  You 
need  not  have  the  least  uneasiness  about  the  matter,  I 
assure  you." 

Eila's  face,  which  had  been  very  bright  at  the  outset  of 
his  adch-ess,  suddenly  fell. 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  in  alarmed  tones,  "I  never  gave  them 
my  address !  I  refused  to  give  it  on  purpose.  How  could 
they  say  they  would  send  the  money,  not  knowing  where  I 
was  to  be  found  ?    Oh,  what  shall  I  do  ? " 

Hubert's  presence  of  mind  was  equal  to  the  occasion. 

"  To  begin  with,  don't  lose  your  head,"  he  laughed.  The 
excessive  composure  of  his  manner  had  a  tranquillizing  ef- 
fect. "  They  knew  you  would  send  for  the  money  if  you 
did  not  receive  it;  but  it  would  be  more  business-like  to 
leave  your  address  with  the  director.  I  will  take  you  to 
him,  if  you  like,  at  once ;  or — no — wait  a  minute.  I  should 
be  glad  to  spare  you  another  meeting  with  him.  Supposing 
I  were  to  take  a  message  for  you  instead  ?  You  had  better 
not  go  into  the  crowd  again,  for  your  own  sake.  They  were 
going  to  dance  as  I  came  away ;  at  least,  a  lady  was  going 
to  perform  the  can-can.  Had  you  not  better  put  your  name 
and  address  down  in  wi'iting  " — he  took  out  his  pocket-book) 
and  extracted  a  blank  leaf  and  a  pencil,  which  he  handed 
to  her — "  and  let  me  take  it  for  you  to  the  manager  ?  I  will 
give  you  my  own  card  by-and-by.  I  am  staying  at  the 
Hotel  du  Louvre,  and  I  will  see  that  you  have  your  due,  I 
promise  you." 

He  said  these  words  with  an  air  of  such  calm  assurance 
that  Eila's  courage  returned.  She  essayed  to  find  words  in 
which  to  express  her  gratitude;  but  her  wet  lashes  (the 
comeliness  of  her  face  was  proof  against  even  the  vmbecom- 
ing  process  of  teai'-sheddiug)  said  more  than  her  phrases. 
Hubert  had  the  intense  gratification  of  feeling  that  she 
trusted  him  completely.     Why,  indeed,  should  she  doubt 


274  NOT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

him  ?  In  obedience  to  his  instructions,  slie  wrote  her  name 
upon  the  paper  he  had  given  her,  holding  it  against  the  wall 
for  that  purpose.  She  attached  no  prefix  to  it,  but  wrote 
simply,  in  a  somewhat  schoolboy  hand,  the  words,  "Eila 
Frost,"  with  her  address  beneath.  As  she  handed  the  paper 
to  her  companion,  he  glanced  instinctively  at  the  name, 
and  immediately  noticed  that  there  was  no  indication  as  to 
whether  she  were  wife  or  maid.  He  concluded  she  must  be 
the  latter— a  conclusion  to  which  her  air  of  extreme  youth, 
and  generally  tmmarried  aspect,  seemed  also  to  point. 

It  was  wonderful.  Eila  thought,  how  quickly  he  accom- 
plished this  second  mission  as  compared  with  the  first. 
Perhaps,  she  reflected  further,  her  brain  was  in  too  great  a 
whirl  to  allow  of  her  estimating  time  properly.  He  might 
have  been  away,  after  all,  longer  than  she  supposed.  The 
wonderful,  wonderful  and  most  wonderful  news  he  had 
brought  her  seemed  to  put  all  other  thoughts  out  of  her 
head.  When  he  did  return,  nevertheless,  she  could  not  re- 
frain from  interrogating  him  eagerly  once  more  with  her 
eyes.    Hubert  understood  the  look,  and  smiled  reassuringly. 

"  What !  not  convinced  yet  ?  I  give  you  my  word  it  is 
all  right.  The  whole  business  is  sealed,  and  jon  may  sleep 
on  your  two  ears,  as  they  say  hex*e.  Tell  yourself  that  to- 
morrow afternoon  by  four  o'clock  the  money  will  be  deliv- 
ered to  you  at  the  address  you  gave  me.  Are  you  ready  to 
come  away  now  ?  My  friend  will  be  wondering  what  has 
become  of  us  all  this  time." 

Eila  murmured  some  words  to  the  effect  that  she  was 
quite  ready,  and  inexpressibly  grateful.  It  was  necessary 
to  have  recourse  to  an  ouvreuse,  after  all,  with  a  ghoul-like 
face  and  pink-rouged  cheeks  that  matched  unwholesomely 
with  her  ribbons,  to  find  the  way  out  through  the  network 
of  passages  behind  the  theatre. 

With  a  two-franc  acknowledgment,  the  woman  went 
away  contented,  smirking,  and  Eila  and  her  protector  found 
themselves  on  the  pavement  without,  where  the  fair-mous- 
tached  young  man  was  walking  up  and  down,  smoking  a 
third  cigar  to  while  away  the  time.  There  was  a  slight,  gray 
drizzle,  to  which  he  seemed  entirely  indifferent ;  but  Eila 


EILA'S  ORDEAL.  275 

noticed  that  the  white  glazed  hat  of  the  driver  on  the  box 
of  the  carriage  in  waiting  was  wet  and  shiny. 

"  Thanks,  old  fellow,"  Hubert  said  to  his  friend,  without 
apologizing,  however,  for  keeping  him  waiting.  "  Are  you 
going  into  that  place  again,  or  shall  I  find  you  at  the  Louvre 
in  another  hour  ?  I  am  going  to  see  this  lady  safe  to  her 
own  door  first." 

"All  right,"  replied  Mr.  Wilton,  in  the  same  natural 
tones.  "You'll  find  me  in  the  smoking-room,  1  expect,  if 
you  want  me  for  anything  before  you  turn  in.  I  hope  you 
are  feeling  better  ? "  he  added,  addressing  himself  to  the 
ci-devant  Bacchante,  and  lifting  his  hat  as  she  hui'ried  past 
him  to  the  carriage. 

Eila  uttered  a  timid  "  Thank  you,  much  better  ! "  from 
behind  her  drawn-down  veil,  and  Mr.  Wilton  stood  for  a 
moment  looking  after  the  carriage  as  it  drove  away  with 
Mr.  de  Merle  and  the  Bacchante.  He  did  not  make  any 
comment  upon  the  proceeding.  The  boss  was  the  boss,  and 
as  such  could  do  no  ■v\Tong,  however  perplexing  the  fact  of 
his  absconding  with  a  vine-ci'owned  damsel  from  the  stage 
of  the  Folies-Fantassin  might  appear  to  the  young  man's 
thinking  in  connection  with  his  age  and  personality. 

Eila,  meanwhile,  was  feeling  all  the  relief  of  leaving  the 
scene  of  her  martyrdom  behind  her.  Overcome  by  the 
emotions  she  had  been  through,  she  leaned  back  in  the  car- 
riage by  the  side  of  her  self-constituted  friend  without  utter- 
ing a  word.  The  vehicle  was  of  the  much-worn,  springless, 
clattering,  battered  type  that  is  still  to  be  met  with  among 
the  petites  voitures  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  Gare  St. 
Lazare,  and  neither  of  the  occupants  spoke  until  they  had 
been  jolted  down  the  descending  streets  to  the  lull  of  the 
asphalted  boulevard  and  smooth  Rue  Richelieu.  Then  Eila 
awoke  from  her  reverie,  and  addressed  herself  to  her  com- 
panion : 

"  What  should  I  have  done  if  you  had  not  been  there  to- 
night, I  wonder  ?  I  never  fainted  before,  and  it  seemed  just 
as  though  I  were  dying."  She  shuddered,  "  The  thing  that 
seemed  to  bring  me  back  to  life  in  the  end  was  hearing  you 
tell  your  friend  in  English  to  keep  the  crowd  away.    You 


276  ^'OT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

can't  imagine  what  a  comfort  the  English  voice  and  the 
English  words  seemed  to  bring.  Still,  even  now  "  (at  this 
point  her  tones  grew  somewhat  diffident)  "  I  don't  know 
whether  you  are  English  or  not.  I  made  sure  you  were 
when  I  heard  you  first,  but  afterwards,  when  you  spoke  to 
the  ouvreuse,  you  seemed  to  be  quite  French." 

Hubert  uttered  a  short  laugh.  His  laugh,  as  well  as  his 
voice,  had  a  j)leasant  ring.  A  tete-a-tete  in  the  dark  with  a 
mysterious  and  beautiful  young  woman,  who  was  also  as 
good  a  counterpai't  of  Psyche  in  respect  of  her  outward  ap- 
pearance as  one  could  hope  to  find  in  this  world  of  imper- 
fections, was  very  nearly  a  realization  of  the  fanciful  dream 
of  his  earlier  years.  Behind  the  kindly  veil  of  night  he  felt 
no  longer  at  a  disadvantage.  He  could  even  talk  of  himself 
without  infusing  an  unconscious  inflexion  of  scorn  and  bit- 
terness into  his  words.  He  was  partly  French  and  partly 
English,  he  informed  young  Mrs.  Frost,  and  he  had  had  a 
kind  of  alternate  French  and  English  bringing  up,  which 
accounted  for  his  familiarity  with  both  languages. 

"We  have  French  blood,  too,"  exclaimed  Eila,  in  a  tone 
of  childish  pride,  when  she  had  heard  him  to  the  end.     "My 
grandmother — our  mother's   mother — was   French,  or  half  ' 
French,  at  least ;  and  her  father  was  a  pure  Frenchman." 
"  Were  you  born  in  France  ? "  asked  Hubert. 
"  No  ;  in  Tasmania." 

The  words  were  uttered  with  the  accompaniment  of  an 
involu2itary  sigh.  Hubert  could  not  know  the  multitude  of 
sad  and  tender  thoughts  with  which  the  name  of  her  birth- 
place was  linked.  Cowa  and  Reginald  !  home  and  peace  ! 
love  and  security !  The  vision  of  the  far-away  haven  in  the 
land  of  her  birth  rose  clear  and  distinct  before  her  mind.  A 
morning  in  spring  was  breaking  over  it  at  this  moment,  and 
Reginald,  who  was  probably  w^alking  back  from  his  morn- 
ing swim,  might  be  looking  across  the  hills  towards  the 
white  cottage  on  the  heights,  and  thinking  of  her.  What 
would  he  say  if  he  could  have  followed  her  in  an  invisible 
coat  this  evening  ?  How  should  she  ever  be  able  to  act  up 
to  her  solemn  pledge  that  she  would  tell  him,  not  only 
everything  that  befell  her,  but  everything  she  contemplated 


EILA'S  ORDEAL.  277 

doing-,  concealing  nothing  ?  Supposing  she  had  kept  her 
promise  literally,  what  could  he  have  done  but  suffer  ?  And 
did  not  recent  events  prove  tliat  she  had  done  well  to  keep 
her  counsel  ?  If  she  had  consulted  him  about  her  project 
of  exhibiting  herself  before  carrying  it  out,  he  would  have 
moved  heaven  and  earth  to  make  her  abandon  it,  to  say 
nothing  of  ruining  himself  to  send  her  assistance. 

Hubert  interrupted  her  mournful  reflections  by  saying : 

"  That  is  rather  a  curious  coincidence.  My  grandmother 
was  French  too  ;  and  you  and  I  are  compatriots  in  another 
sense  as  well,  for  I  have  lived  a  great  deal  in  Australia. 
How  long  is  it  since  you  left  Tasmania  ? " 

"  Hardly  eight  months,"  was  the  mournful  reply  ;  "  and 
we  would  give  anything  to  be  back  there." 

As  the  latter  remark  seemed  to  pave  the  way  for  gaining 
a  little  more  information  of  a  personal  character,  Hubert 
put  a  few  questions,  by  which  he  elicited  the  main  facts 
connected  with  the  migration  of  the  Clares  to  Europe.  He 
learned  under  what  conditions  the  great  enterprise  had  been 
undertaken;  how  the  family  had  set  out  on  their  travels 
with  insufficient  means,  and  even  with  less  experience,  and 
what  the  consequences  had  been.  Eila  did  not  conceal  the 
fact  that  they  had  been  reduced  to  dire  straits,  advancing  it 
rather  as  a  plea  by  which  to  condone  her  rash  experiment 
of  this  evening.  The  strangeness  of  confiding  the  family 
histoi'y  to  a  total  stranger,  of  whose  very  name  she  was 
ignorant,  did  not  occur  to  her  until  afterwards.  As  the  sage 
old  saw  says,  "  Circumstances  alter  cases."  If  it  had  befallen 
her  to  be  shipwrecked  upon  a  desert  island,  and  if  Hubei-t 
had  suddenly  emerged  from  a  grotto,  like  Caliban,  whom  he 
might  very  well  have  personated,  and  had  offered  her  his 
assistance,  she  would  certainly  not  have  thought  of  asking 
him  his  antecedents  before  telling  him  of  her  plight.  His 
human  kinship  would  have  been  enough,  and  more  than 
enough,  to  warrant  her  confidence.  Now,  as  regarded  her 
adventure  of  this  evening,  she  had  felt,  in  a  certain  sense, 
quite  as  forlorn  and  stranded  as  tliough  she  had  suffered 
actual  shipwreck,  as  though,  indeed,  the  Folies-Fantassin,  in 
lieu  of  being  a  noisy  music-hall,  in  a  noisy  street,  in  the 


278  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

heart  of  a  noisy  city,  had  been  the  veriest  surf -washed  rock 
in  the  whole  desolate  Atlantic.  The  hand  tliat  had  been 
stretched  out  to  rescue  her  had  been  none  the  less  a  saving 
one  that  it  had  reached  her  across  a  crowd  of  her  fellow- 
creatures  instead  of  across  the  angry  waves.  It  seemed 
quite  natural  to  her  that  she  sliould  continue  to  cling  to  it 
now.  That  in  coming  to  her  help  her  companion  had  been 
actuated  by  pure  and  chivalrous  motives  she  had  taken  for 
granted  fi'om  the  outset.  Perhaps,  if  he  had  been  a  hand- 
some youth  instead  of  an  ungainly  and  hairy  hunchback, 
she  would  have  spoken  with  more  reserve.  As  the  case 
stood  now,  she  felt  instinctively  that  the  best  way  of  prov- 
ing her  gratitude,  and  of  showing  him  tacitly  that  she  un- 
derstood and  appreciated  the  unselfishness  of  his  kindness, 
was  to  answer  his  questions  fully  and  trustingly. 

Nevertheless,  the  situation  was  an  unusual  one.  Hubert 
looked  out  more  than  once  to  see  the  direction  the  cab  might 
be  taking.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  was  not  inclined 
to  quarrel  with  the  crawling  pace  of  the  voiture  a  VJieure. 
Sometimes  he  failed  to  find  out  the  bearings.  The  soft 
gloom  of  the  November  night  obscured  the  light  from  the 
gay  lamps,  and  the  moon  that  Eila  had  watched  from  the 
top  of  the  omnibus  on  the  way  to  Montmartre  was  hidden 
behind  dark  clouds.  It  was  not  always  easy  to  speak  co- 
herently, owing  to  the  jolting;  but  Hubert  found  occasion 
to  comment  wonderingly  in  his  own  mind  upon  the  soft  re- 
finement of  the  Baccliante's  voice,  which  was  pitched  in  a 
key  that  could  not  fail  to  be  pleasing  to  sensitive  ears.  As 
the  white  stream  from  the  electric  light  flashed  into  the  cab 
on  their  way  across  the  Place  du  Carrousel,  it  illuminated 
Eila's  profile  for  an  instant's  space,  and  brought  back  the 
impression  of  her  face  to  Hubert's  mind.  What  a  purely- 
modelled,  innocent-looking  face  it  was  !  a  little  pale  and 
tired,  but  so  confiding  and  youthful  withal.  Married  ? 
Surely  not !  There  were  no  married  lines  in  the  virginal 
contour  of  the  features,  or  in  the  girlish,  though  bountifully 
moulded,  figure.  How  was  it  possible  that  such  a  type 
should  have  been  discoverable  in  the  place  where  he  had 
found  it  this  evening,  among  such  surroundings  and  in  such 


EILA'S  ORDEAL.  279 

company  ?  He  remembered  his  own  ironical  suggestion, 
that  they  should  search  for  a  Rosiere  among  the  candidates 
for  the  prize  of  beauty.  Perhaps  this  young  woman  was 
only  acting  the  part  of  an  ingenue,  after  all ;  but  if  so,  she 
was  the  most  consummate  mistress  of  her  art  he  had  ever 
encountered.  Whatever  the  truth  might  be,  her  manner 
was  perfect.  It  was  so  simple  and  straightforward  ;  there 
was  such  an  utter  absence  of  anything  resembling  pose  or 
coquetry  that  it  commanded  involuntarj'^  respect.  But  how 
had  she  come  to  accept  his  escort  so  readily  ?  Hubert  did 
not  know  whether  he  was  to  regard  her  conduct  in  this  re- 
spect as  eminently  flattering  or  the  reverse.  The  point  about 
which  he  felt  most  curious,  as  to  whether  she  were  married 
or  single,  was  just  the  one  upon  which  she  had  given  him 
no  enlightenment ;  but  he  thought  he  could  gather  from  her 
answers  that  his  impression  of  her  being  unmarried  was 
correct.  She  spoke  of  mother,  sisters,  and  brothers,  but  made 
no  mention  of  a  husband  ;  and  she  could  not,  as  he  judged, 
be  more  than  twenty  or  thereabouts. 

"What  put  it  into  your  head  to  go  to  that  place  this 
evening  ? "  he  asked  her  abruptly,  after  she  had  given  him 
an  outline  of  the  family  history.  "  You  can't  have  had  any 
idea  of  the  risks  you  were  running." 

There  was  a  pause,  then  : 

"I  thought  of  nothing  but  how  I  might  earn  a  little 
money,"  Eila  answered  humbly.  "  It  will  be  two  months 
before  the  next  remittance  comes  from  Tasmania.  They 
won't  let  us  have  it  earlier,  and  even  then  it  will  be  terribly 
little,  for  we  drew  in  advance  all  they  would  let  us  have  to 
pay  for  our  passages.  As  we  are  strangers  in  Paris,  there 
was  not  a  soul  to  whom  I  could  turn  for  help,  and  mother's 
illness  was  the  last  straw.  I  had  to  pay  away  at  once  the 
little  that  was  left,  and  there  was  none  to  go  on  with.  It 
was  like  a  horrible  nightmai-e,  to  come  to  such  a  pass  all  in 
so  short  a  time.  There  has  not  even  been  enougli  to  buy 
bi'ead  lately  ;  and  I  could  tliink  of  nothing.  Even  if  we  had 
sold  all  we  had  in  the  world,  it  would  only  have  helped  us 
to  struggle  on  for  a  very  little  longer ;  and  no  one  in  the 
family  knew  that  there  was  no  money  left.     It  is  I  who  have 


280  NOT   COUNTING   THE   COST. 

the  responsibility  of  laying  it  out  and  keeping  house  upon  it 
since  mother's  illness,  and  I  could  never  have  believed  it 
would  have  melted  away  as  it  did.  Just  when  matters  were 
becoming  desperate,  I  happened  to  see  the  Prix  de  Beaute  com- 
petition announced  in  the  Petit  Journal.  I  did  not  think 
it  was  a  thing  to  be  taken  seriously  at  first,  but  I  went  to  see 
about  it,  all  the  same,  as  a  kind  of  forlorn  hope.  Even  when 
I  found  it  was  a  bond-fide  competition,  and  everything  was 
arranged,  I  did  not  guess  what  the  reality  would  be  like.  I 
had  an  idea  it  would  be  like  figuring  in  a  kind  of  tableau 
vivant " — this  was  the  eupliemism  behind  which  Eila  had 
sheltei-ed  herself  from  the  beginning — "  and  I  have  played 
in  tableaux  vivants  often  when  we  were  children  in  the 
happy  old  days  in  Hobart.  I  could  not  have  dreamed  that 
it  would  be  as  dreadful  as  it  was." 

She  bent  her  head.  The  recollection  of  the  eyes  and 
pince-nez  of  the  man  who  liad  offered  her  "  chevaux  et  voi- 
ture  "  rose  before  her,  and  her  cheeks  burned  in  the  dark. 

"  You  did  not  have  to  go  through  any  preliminary  re- 
hearsals, then  ?"  Hubert  asked. 

"  No.  I  was  only  .shown  where  my  seat  was  to  be  on  the 
stage.  I  had  to  see  the  director  once  or  twice.  He  looks  a 
hateful  man,  but  he  was  really  not  luikind.  He  treated  me 
very  politely.  He  said  I  need  only  come  on  the  night  of  the 
performance,  but  that  I  must  wear  the  dress  he  ordered.  He 
sent  me  to  a  woman  who  makes  theatrical  costumes,  and 
when  I  got  to  the  theatre  to-night  I  found  someone  waiting 
with  my  dress  ready  to  put  on." 

"  They  wanted  you  to  be  photographed  in  it,  you  know," 
observed  Hubert  dryly,  "to  stick  in  the  shop-windows." 

"  To  be  photographed  ?  Who  said  so  ? "  cried  Eila  in 
tones  of  unfeigned  terror.  "I  would  not  let  them  photo- 
graph me  for  anything  in  the  world.  Why,  I  never  would 
have  gone  if  I  had  thought  there  were  any  danger  of  being 
recognised  again." 

"I  am  afraid  that  is  asking  rather  much  of  the  thousand 
odd  spectators  who  gazed  at  you  to-night.  But  you  need  not 
give  your  consent  to  be  photographed,  if  you  object  to  it  so 
strongly.     Perhaps,  too,  if  the  director  is  discreet  as  regards 


EILA'S  ORDEAL.  281 

your  name  and  address,  which  you  say  are  not  to  be  di- 
vulged, you  may  escape  the  worst  consequences  of  your  ven- 
ture. But  if  you  will  let  me  advise  you  as  a  friend,  you 
won't  try  the  experiment  again.  You  don't  quite  understand 
all  the  dangers  you  were  com'ting.  You  might  even  find 
the  five  thousand  francs  a  poor  set-oflp  next  time." 

He  put  his  head  out  of  the  window,  and  changed  his  tone 
as  he  drew  it  back  again.  What  motive  had  he,  after  all, 
for  preaching  prudence  to  this  strange  young  woman  he  had 
befriended  ? 

"  Where  are  we  now  V  he  asked  her. 

"  On  the  Boulevard  St.  Michel."  Her  tone  betrayed  that 
she  was  humiliated.  "  I  am  afraid  it  is  taking  you  ever  so 
far  out  of  your  way.  But  we  shall  be  at  the  Place  de  I'Ob- 
servatoire  in  another  minute.  How  can  I  ever  thank  you 
enough  for  what  you  have  done  for  me  ?  I  wish  I  could 
think  you  kneiv  how  grateful  I  feel." 

"There  is  nothing  to  thank  me  for."  The  words  were 
uttered  in  all  sincerity,  though  the  tone  was  brusque.  "  Will 
you  " — he  hesitated — "  will  you  allow  me  to  call  and  see  how 
you  are  getting  on  the  day  after  to-morrow  ?  I  shall  be 
leaving  Paris  shortly,  and  I  should  like  to  have  yovir  assur- 
ance that  the  director  has  paid  up  as  he  promised.  As  you 
allowed  me  to  conduct  that  transaction  for  you,  I  consider 
myself  responsible  for  his  good  faith." 

Eila  did  not  answer  at  once.  When  she  did,  it  was  evi- 
dent that  she  was  ill  at  ease. 

"  It  is  wonderfully  kind  of  you  to  interest  yourself  in 
us,"  she  said  in  constrained  tones,  wondering  the  while  what 
pretext  she  should  find  for  introducing  this  deformed 
stranger  into  their  miserable  home.  "  You  know  my  mother 
has  been  ill,  and  I  have  told  you  how  we  live ;  but  if  you 

don't  really  mind,  and  it  is  not  too  much  trouble "     Slie 

stammered,  finding  her  words  with  difiiculty,  and  Hubert 
cut  her  sliort. 

"  Thanks — at  four  o'clock,  then,  the  day  after  to-morrow. 
But  stay,  let  me  give  you  my  card." 

The  carriage  had  drawn  up  before  the  heavy  closed  door 
of  the  porte-cochere.     He  got  out  and  rang  the  bell,  and 


282  NOT  COUNTING   TPIE  COST. 

Eila,  as  she  descended  in  her  turn,  saw  beneath  the  lamp- 
light his  misshapen  shadow  lying  upon  the  pavement  at  her 
feet.  For  an  instant  she  was  conscious  of  an  inward  shrink- 
ing. She  had  almost  forgotten  his  uncouth  appearance  dur- 
ing their  exchange  of  confidences  in  the  dark. 

She  held  her  hand  out  to  him  at  parting,  and  felt  it  taken 
into  a  powerful  and  friendly  grasp.  The  door  opened  sud- 
denly and  noiselessly  upon  the  dark  entrance-way  as  she 
bade  him  a  last  good -night. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  will  have  to  grope  your 
way  upstairs  in  the  dark  ? "  he  called  after  her  as  she  turned 
away  from  him. 

"  I  will  indeed.  The  lights  are  all  out  at  half-past  ten, 
and  we  have  to  call  out  our  names  when  we  pass  the  little 
den  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  where  the  concierge  lives." 

"What  a  barbarous  arrangement!  Wait  a  moment, 
won't  you  take  my  match-box  ?  " 

"No;  I  know  every  step,"  said  Eila,  laughing;  "but  I 
hear  the  concierge  calling  out.  He  knows  in  his  sleep  when 
the  door  is  not  shut.  Good-night,  again,  and  thank  you 
once  more  with  all  my  heart ! " 

Hubert  turned  away.  He  drove  back  to  the  hotel  in  the 
rattling  cab,  but  did  not  look  for  Jack  Wilton  when  he  ar- 
rived there ;  he  was  in  no  mood  to  answer  the  unconsidered 
questions  of  the  young  man,  or  perhaps  he  preferred  to  re- 
main alone  with  the  recollection  of  his  night  drive  with  the 
Bacchante. 


CHAPTER  V. 

eila's  discovery. 

Eila  meanwhile  bounded  up  the  stairs  in  the  dark  with 
a  sense  of  wild  elation  and  dream-like  elasticity  of  tread. 
Her  footfall  made  no  sound  as  it  flew  from  step  to  step.  En- 
tering the  apartment  noiselessly  with  the  aid  of  her  pass- 
key, she  crept  through  the  empty  reception-room  into  her 
chamber.     A  plaintive  voice  greeted  her  from  the  bed  on 


EILA'S  DISCOVERY.  283 

the  floor,  and  a  little  figure,  dimly  outlined  in  white  in  the 
darkness,  rose  up  to  throw  two  tightly  clinging  arms  round 
her  neck. 

"  Not  asleep  ? "  said  Eila,  gently  chiding,  but  holding  the 
little  figure  close  to  her  heart  at  the  same  time.  "  Is  Mamy 
back  ? " 

"  Long  ago,"  said  the  child  wearily ;  "  she  had  such  a 
lovely  day.  And  only  think !  they  had  a  big  ice-cream 
made  just  like  a  polar  bear  at  dinner.  She  brought  us  back 
some  chocolate,  too  ;  I  wouldn't  eat  mine  till  you  came,  but 
I  couldn't  help  just  nibbling  a  little  corner  of  it." 

She  held  out  her  prize  to  her  elder  sister,  and  Eila,  having 
shut  the  door  and  lighted  the  candle,  seated  herself  on  the 
edge  of  the  mattress  on  the  floor,  while  Truca  nestled  close 
up  against  her  for  the  double  enjoyment  of  feeling  her 
sister's  protecting  arm.  and  eating  the  chocolate  simultane- 
ously. She  bit  hungrily  and  contentedly  into  her  treasure, 
and  Eila  said  : 

"  You  shall  have  chocolate  and  croissants  to-morrow 
morning  for  breakfast,  darling,  and  veal  and  spinach  for 
dinner." 

"  What  me,  and  all  of  us  ? "  cried  the  child  in  delighted 
wonderment. 

"  Yes,  I  promise  you ;  only  just  let  me  see  the  name  on 
this  card  with  the  candle  first,  Avill  you,  dear  ?  " 

Truca  lighted  the  candle  obediently,  and  held  it  close  to 
her  sister.  Eila  drew  Hubert's  card  from  her  pocket  and 
proceeded  to  examine  it.  The  name  that  confronted  her 
was  that  of  Mr.  Hubert  de  Merle.  The  words  "  Tarragunyah, 
Queensland,"  were  also  printed  in  the  corner,  but  across 
these  a  line  had  been  drawn.  The  card  was  slim  and 
polished,  and  the  type  was  in  neat  italics ;  but  had  the 
name  it  recorded  been  inscribed  in  the  same  fiery  characters 
as  those  which  God's  avenging  finger  traced  upon  the  walls 
of  the  Babylonian  palace,  their  import  could  hardly  have 
been  more  startling  to  the  person  who  read  them.  Few  and 
far  apart  are  the  coincidences  in  our  everyday  lives  which 
make  us  realize  the  truth  of  the  saying  that  "  fact  is  stranger 
than  fiction."  When  they  do  occur,  their  first  efi^ect  is  to 
19 


284  NOT  COUNTING   THE   COST. 

induce  a  feeling  of  grim  reality  best  expressed  in  the  im- 
mortal words,  "  Do  I  sleep  ?  Do  I  dream  ?  Are  there 
visions  about  ?  "  Eila  gazed  stupidly  at  the  card  for  a  few- 
moments.  She  did  not  call  out,  or  disturb  Truca  in  the 
enjoyment  of  her  chocolate.  She  sat  as  one  turned  to  stone, 
uttering  neither  word  nor  sound.  So  the  thing  the  family 
had  come  across  the  world  to  seek,  in  so  foolish  and  so  mad 
a  fashion,  had  drojDped  across  their  jiath  unsought.  Even 
the  wildest  of  their  motlier's  pi'ophecies  had  never  pointed 
to  a  more  unlikely  conclusion  than  this.  How  came  their 
cousin  to  be  in  Paris  unknown  to  them,  after  all,  and  why 
out  of  the  two  millions  inhabitants  in  that  city,  nay,  out  of 
the  twelve  or  thirteen  hundred  millions  that  form  the  pre- 
sumable population  of  the  globe  (ui^on  the  strength  of  her 
being  Truca's  instructress,  young  Mrs.  Frost  kept  her  memory 
of  school -rooin  statistics  green) — should  he  be  the  very  one  to 
go  to  the  Folies-Fantassin  on  this  eventful  night,  and  to  come 
forward  as  her  sole  champion  and  protector  ?  Let  scientific 
people  laugh  her  to  scorn,  let  her  own  veneration  for  the  cause- 
and-etf ect  theory  of  the  universe  be  shaken  to  its  foundations, 
she  must  yet  feel  that  thei^e  was  something  more  than  a  mere 
coincidence  in  this  miracle.  Only  a  short  time  ago  she  had 
been  led  to  believe  that  Hubert  de  Merle  was  non-existent, 
or  that  if  he  existed  at  all  it  was  in  the  guise  of  a  back- 
woodsman, or  a  back-block  squatter  m  the  remotest  wilds 
of  Queensland.  He  had  seemed  to  her  under  this  aspect  as  far 
removed  from  her  earthly  sphere  as  the  woodcutter  in  the 
moon,  that  had  been  such  a  familiar  object  to  her  in  the 
Southern  Hemisphere,  until  he  had  been  turned  topsy-turvy 
in  the  Northern  one,  and  transformed  into  a  bloated-looking 
face.  Hubert  de  Merle  actually  alive  and  in  Paris,  and 
coming  to  see  them  the  day  after  to-morrow  of  his  own 
accord  !  The  day  after  to-morrow  ? — nay.  to-morrow  itself, 
for  it  was  already  past  midnight.  There  could  not  be  two 
Hubert  de  Merles,  both  having  been  in  Queensland,  and 
both  owning  to  a  French  grandmother.  This  Hubert  bore 
the  same  relationship  to  the  Chevalier  as  herself.  He  was 
the  Hubert  of  the  ruby,  the  Hubert  of  her  mother's  legends 
and  her  own  sea-inspired  dreams  ;  yet  not  that  Hubert,  either, 


EILA'S  DISCOVERY.  285 

for  the  first  had  been  a  fairy  prince,  and  this  one  was  a  Caliban. 
Should  she  wake  the  household,  and  narrate  the  whole  mi- 
raculous incident  to  them  at  once  ?  Should  she  cause  them 
to  lie  awake  throughout  the  remainder  of  the  night  for 
sheer  joy  and  excitement  ?  No  ;  she  would  be  prudent,  and 
keep  her  secret  to  herself  for  the  present.  The  night  brings 
counsel,  says  the  proverb.  Perhaps,  on  second  thoughts,  she 
might  deem  it  wiser  to  leave  the  family  in  ignorance  of  all 
that  had  passed  until  Hubert  declai-ed  himself.  Reviewing 
the  position  more  calmly,  she  reminded  herself  that  they 
had  no  kind  of  claim  on  their  cousin.  He  might  have 
neither  the  will  nor  the  means  to  help  them.  Their  mother 
had  taught  them  to  look  upon  the  name  as  a  magic  one ; 
but  had  not  their  mother  also  led  them  to  believe  that  Eu- 
rope was  to  be  their  promised  land,  and  what  had  it  proved 
to  them  so  far  but  a  place  of  exile  and  sorrow  ?  Supposing, 
too,  that  none  of  the  anticipated  wonder  should  be  realized, 
that  neither  the  two  hundred  pounds  nor  Hubert  himself 
sliould  be  forthcoming  in  the  next  forty-eight  hours  ?  Eila 
felt  as  though  the  strain  of  expectation  would  be  almost 
more  than  she  could  bear.  It  was  well  for  her  that  there 
was  her  little  sister  to  consider.  She  found  an  outlet  for  her 
overwrouglit  feelings  by  lieaping  caresses  upon  Truca,  mur- 
muring soothing  woi'ds  of  consolation  to  her,  and  hinting 
vaguely  at  better  times  in  store  as  she  lay  down  upon  the 
mattress  with  her  arm  round  the  little  body  by  her  side. 
Truca  fell  after  awhile  into  blissful  unconsciousness,  but  for 
Eila  there  was  no  sleep.  Her  thoughts  were  so  vivid  that 
they  seemed  to  beat  at  pulses  in  her  brain.  Hopes  and 
fears  raced  after  each  other  at  lightning  speed  through 
her  mind — hopes  that  her  dear  ones  might  be  rescued  from 
the  slough  of  despond  into  which  they  had  fallen,  and  res- 
cued by  means  of  the  ordeal  she  had  been  through  that 
night,  and  the  wonderful  consequences  that  were  to  result 
from  it ;  fears  lest  some  unlooked-for  catastrophe  should 
happen  before  the  morrow,  lest  the  director  who  was  to  send 
her  the  money  should  die  or  fail,  lest  Hubert,  who  was  like 
a  magician  oca  dwarf  out  of  the  "Arabian  Nights,"  should 
somehow  be  spirited  away.      Of  his  good  faith  she  never 


286  NOT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

once  doubted.  Lies  did  not  look  through  liis  eyes  nor  speak 
in  his  voice.  But  how  should  she  contrive  to  appear  like 
her  ordinary  self  on  the  morrow  ?  How  endure  the  slow 
creeping  on  of  the  hours,  marked  hy  the  one  little  clock  that 
had  been  brought  away  from  Cowa  ?  How  reply  to  her 
mother's  questions  in  her  customary  calm  voice  when  her 
heart  would  beat  so  wildly  with  the  sound  of  every  step  on 
the  stairs  ?  The  small  hours  of  the  night  grew  apace.  She 
heard  the  clock  of  the  Vol-de-Grace  sound  each  fourth  until 
the  morning  broke.  The  market  carts  from  Montrouge  lum- 
bered down  the  boulevard.  The  early  workmen's  train 
rolled  by,  and  the  doleful  notes  of  the  conductor's  horn 
sounded  upon  the  dawn.  By-and-by  the  milk-woman  came 
to  fill  the  tin  can  hanging  outside  the  door,  and  Eila  rose 
from  her  mattress  to  order  a  double  quantity. 

Nights  such  as  these  bring  lines  to  maturer  faces,  and 
eyes  set  in  mourning  circles ;  to  our  heroine  they  brought 
shining  orbs,  and  an  ethereally  intensified  expression  of 
countenance.  Next  day  she  found  that  her  strength  was 
equal  to  the  trial  that  awaited  her.  She  went  singing  about 
the  apartment  in  the  forenoon,  and  prevailed  upon  her 
mother  to  appear  at  the  dinner-table  for  the  first  time  since 
her  illness.  She  declared  that  the  great  occasion  must  be 
fittingly  celebrated,  and  never  surely  was  such  satisfaction 
depicted  on  the  faces  of  a  huTigry  gi*oup  as  when  the  por- 
tions from  the  rotisserie  made  their  appearance  punctually 
at  half -past  twelve,  and  a  full  plate  of  veal  and  spinach  was 
set  before  each  member  of  the  family.  Dinner  was  drawing 
to  a  close,  and  the  party  was  feasting  upon  a  long  glazed  loaf 
and  frontage  de  Brie,  when  a  ring  at  the  electric  bell  made 
everyone  start.  Eila  hurried  with  chalk-white  cheeks  to  the 
door.  A  man  in  uniform,  in  reality  a  commissionaire  from 
the  Hotel  du  Louvre,  but  to  the  ignorant  family  assembled  a 
formidable  public  functionary,  entered  the  room,  and  asked 
with  an  air  of  assurance  for  Mademoiselle  Frost.  The 
family  was  struck  dumb,  but  Eila  re^^lied,  "  Cest  moi ! " 
in  tones  which  were  actually  audible  though  the  speak- 
er's voice  trembled  ;  then  turning  hurriedly  to  the  rest,  she 
added  in    an    undertone,    "  I   will    take    him    through    to 


EILA'S   DISCOVERY.  287 

the  reception-room ;  I  think  it  must  be  something  about  a 
— a  lottery  I  put  into,  only  I  didn't  tell  you."  The  family 
was  so  far  held  in  check  by  the  commissionaire's  appear- 
ance that  they  forbore  to  question  further,  and  Eila  led  him 
boldly  into  the  adjoining  room  and  closed  the  door.  To  say 
that  her  heart  throbbed  wildly  as  he  pulled  a  small  bag  out 
of  a  breast-pocket,  which  it  had  unduly  bulged  out,  would 
be  to  give  but  a  faint  idea  of  the  well-nigh  sick  tumult  of 
sensation  that  beset  her.  With  a  dream-like  feeling  of  be- 
wilderment she  received  the  bag  in  her  hands  and  clutched 
it  closely,  while  the  man  informed  her  that  his  instructions 
were  to  ask  her  to  verifier.  To  verify !  Was  it  not  enough 
to  feel  tlie  weight  of  the  enchanted  bag,  in  thickest  brown 
paper,  carefully  sealed,  that  she  was  holding  ?  Mechanically 
she  sat  upon  one  of  the  battered  trunks,  broke  open  the  bag 
with  trembling  fingers,  and  poured  the  contents  into  her 
lap,  a  cataract  of  shining  coins  which  she  counted  carefully 
before  returning  them  to  the  bag.  Two  hundred  and  fifty 
bright  gold  pieces  of  twenty  napoleons  each — and  what  had 
she  done  to  earn  them  ?  There  was  the  shame  and  the 
sting ;  yet,  if  people  chose  to  throw  away  their  money  so 
insanely,  why  should  not  she,  as  well  as  another,  stoop  to 
pick  it  up  ?  She  had  done  what  she  had  undertaken  to  do, 
and  the  prize  had  been  fixed  by  the  director  himself.  In  the 
first  flush  of  joy  and  ti'iumph  she  fancied  she  must  have  re- 
ceived fifty  coins  too  much.  Fortunately,  a  speedy  mental 
calculation  set  lier  right  before  she  had  yielded  to  the  first 
impulse  of  returning  them  and  enriching  the  commission- 
aire by  the  amount.  The  counting  being  accomplished,  the 
next  formality  was  the  signing  of  a  receipt  handed  her  by 
the  messenger,  bearing  the  words,  "  Prier  de  rendre  la  quit- 
tance signee  au  jDorteur."  The  receipt  was  drawn  up  for  a 
sum  of  five  thousand  francs,  but  bore  no  reference  to  the 
transaction  for  which  Eila  supposed  the  money  to  have  been 
sent  her.  Having  signed  tlie  document  with  fingers  that 
trembled  with  excitement,  she  changed  her  first  twenty  francs 
in  order  to  bestow  five  upon  the  messengei*.  She  took  tlie 
first  napoleon  at  random  for  this  purpose,  and  the  sensation 
in  her  hand  of  the  three  bulky  five-franc  pieces  that  the 


288  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

man  returned  her  with  a  "Je  vous  remercie  inflniment, 
mademoiselle,"  brought  her  the  first  realization  of  the  sig- 
nificance of  the  magic  bag.  Had  she  followed  him  down 
the  staircase,  she  would  have  seen  him  go  a  little  way  along 
the  Boulevard  towards  a  closed  brougham,  in  which  a  de- 
formed man  was  seated.  She  would  have  seen  him  hand 
the  receipt  to  the  latter,  who,  after  examining  it  for  an  in- 
stant, would  have  been  further  seen  to  put  it  away  in  his 
pocket-book  and  to  sign  to  the  coachman  to  drive  away. 

As  for  Eila,  left  alone  in  possession  of  the  money,  she 
was  inclined  to  doubt  the  evidence  of  her  own  senses.  Often 
had  she  wondered  what  she  should  do  and  how  she  would 
act  if  some  heaven-sent  shower  of  gold  could  rain  upon  her 
in  the  night-time  as  it  rained  upon  Danae  imprisoned  in  her 
tower.  She  had  dreamed  of  how  slie  would  assemble  the 
family  in  their  dire  distress  around  her  in  the  morning  and 
give  them  handfuls  of  gold  all  round.  Now  her  dream  had 
come  true.  It  was  on  the  point  of  being  realized.  Her  wild 
fancy  had  turned  into  an  actual  positive  fact. 

She  had  closed  the  recej)tion-room  door  during  her  parley 
with  Hubert's  messenger,  taking  thereby  all  the  relish  out 
of  the  fromage  de  Brie  for  the  family,  who  were  devoured 
by  uneasiness  and  curiosity.  But  as  soon  as  he  was  gone 
she  uttered  a  whoop  of  summons  which  brought  them  all 
tumbling  into  the  room  upon  each  other's  heels.  First, 
however,  she  had  taken  the  precaution  to  hide  fifty  gold 
pieces  in  her  pocket  as  a  reserve  fund.  Even  her  mother 
was  not  to  be  told  of  the  existence  of  this  provision  for  a 
rainy  day.  The  rest  of  her  money  she  held  in  her  api-on, 
wliich  she  had  gathered  up  in  front  of  her  like  a  bag. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you,  darlings  all,"  she  said  quaveringly, 
as  the  astonished  group  gathered  round  her — any  great  emo- 
tion is  apt  to  make  us  effusive,  for  what  is  emotion,  after  all, 
but  a  transient  form  of  intoxication  ? — "  I  want  to  tell  you 
that  I  have  some  good  news  for  you.  I  have  won  a  prize — 
never  mind  how.  I  didn't  tell  you  about  it,  for  of  course  I 
might  have  lost.  But  I  won,  and  the  prize  is  here  " — she 
rattled  her  apron — "  and  now  I  am  going  to  distribute  it  all 
round.     Mother  comes  first." 


EILA'S  DISCOVERY.  289 

Then  solemnly,  as  Mrs.  Clare  incredulously  and  mock- 
ingly extended  her  hand  as  though  entering  into  the  spirit 
of  the  joke,  Eila  took  the  gold  pieces  up  separately  one  by 
one,  and  dropped  them  into  her  mother's  palm  until  the 
gold  overflowed  and  the  napoleons  fell  upon  the  polished 
floor.  It  was  a  pity  that  Hubert  was  not  at  hand  with  his 
Kodak  to  fix  the  faces  in  the  family  grouj)  during  the  coui'se 
of  this  stupendous  operation.  As  the  process  of  counting 
went  on  from  twenty  to  thirty,  from  thirty  to  fifty,  from 
fifty  up  to  a  hundi'ed,  an  expression  more  akin  to  fear  and 
awe  than  to  pure  joy  was  painted  upon  each  countenance. 

Mrs.  Clare  was  the  most  composed. 

"I  knew  it,"  she  said  solemnly;  "I  was  quite  sure  of  it. 
I  knew  it  must  come  before  long.  How  much  is  there  here, 
my  dear  ?  A  hundred  napoleons  ?  It's  a  pity  they're  not 
sovereigns  !  Such  trumpery  gold  pieces  as  the  French  have, 
to  be  sure !  I  wonder  they're  not  ashamed  of  them.  And 
how  much  more  is  there  where  that  came  from  ?  Anyhow, 
it  could  not  have  come  when  it  was  more  needed." 

"  It  is  the  turn  of  the  others  now,"  said  Eila  ;  "  but  they 
must  make  me  a  promise  that  at  least  half  of  what  I  g\  ve 
them  shall  be  spent  on  useful  clothes,  also  that  I  may  help 
them  to  choose.     Hold  out  your  hands ! " 

"  It's  what  they  used  to  say  at  school  when  a  fellow  was 
goin^  to  get  a  cut  with  the  cane,"  observed  Dick,  stretching 
forth  his  hand,  nevertheless,  and  closing  his  fingers  eagerly 
upon  the  ten  napoleons  that  Eila  counted  into  it. 

Mamy  received  a  similar  sum  with  feigned  squeaks  of 
delight  that  reached  their  crescendo  pitch  as  the  tenth  gold 
piece  was  counted.  Some  objections  were  raised  to  the  be- 
stowal of  an  equal  largess  upon  Truca  by  reason  of  her 
youth ;  hut  Eila  declared  she  was  sole  dispenser  of  the 
fortune. 

"  Ten  must  go  to  Willie,"  she  said,  "and  that  only  leaves 
me  fifty  to  carry  on  the  housekeeping  with,  to  buy  the  ne- 
cessary furniture,  and  to  pay  our  debts.  Even  when  the 
remittance  comes,  we  must  steer  our  Avay  very  carefully, 
for  prizes  ar-e  not  won  every  day.  But  I  suppose  mother 
will  help." 


290  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

Mrs.  Clare,  who  had  been  nursing'  schemes  of  sending  a 
detective  to  Australia  in  search  of  the  lost  cousin,  smiled 
mysteriously. 

"  I  will  go  to  the  studio  to-morrow,"  declared  Dick. 

"And  I,"  said  Truca  gravely,  "will  send  Mr.  Acton 
money  to  pay  Daisy's  passage  home  to  Paris." 

The  greater  part  of  the  afternoon  was  spent  in  discuss- 
ing the  plans  that  each  member  of  the  family  proposed  in 
turn.  A  hundred  times  did  they  together  and  separately 
count  and  finger  each  piece  of  gold.  A  horrible  suggestion 
having  been  made  by  Dick  that  the  coins  might  turn  out 
to  be  false,  they  were  rung  in  turn  upon  the  floor  of  the 
reception-room,  until  the  other  inmates  of  the  tall  house 
supposed  the  eccentric  family  from  outre-iner  to  be  playing 
pitch-and-toss  among  themselves.  As  even  this  test  was 
not  considered  sufliciently  conclusive,  Dick  was  despatched 
with  a  napoleon  taken  at  random  to  the  baker's.  He  was 
a  long  time  away,  and  the  family  went  through  an  anguish 
of  suspense,  compared  with  which  even  the  Caj^e  Horn 
horrors  were  as  nothing.  He  meditated  a  diabolical  plan 
of  terrifying  them  on  his  return  by  declaring  that  the  baker 
had  refused  the  money ;  but  long  before  he  reached  the  top 
of  the  stairs  the  sound  of  his  step  had  reassured  them. 

Joy,  like  grief,  leaves  a  curious  lassitude  behind  it.  Be- 
fore the  afternoon  was  over,  ]Eila  was  relieved  and  grateful 
that  Hubert  should  only  have  suggested  calling  on  the  mor- 
row. Such  a  combination  of  impossibly  exciting  events 
would  have  been  too  much  for  the  family  nerves,  to  say 
nothing  of  their  mother's  health.  Almost  depressed  by  the 
magnitude  of  the  emotions  they  had  been  through,  the 
family  went  early  to  bed. 

Dick  found  vent  for  his  overwrought  soul  by  standing 
upon  his  head  while  the  eggs  were  being  boiled — a  large 
new-laid  egg  per  head — for  tea.  But  he  looked  even  graver 
than  before  after  the  feat  was  accomplished,  and  Eila  re- 
tracted a  project  she  had  meditated  of  taking  him  into  her 
confidence  with  regard  to  the  event  of  the  morrow. 


HUBERT  RECOGNISES  HIS  AUSTRALIAN  COUSINS.  291 
CHAPTER  VI. 

HUBERT  RECOGNISES  HIS  AUSTRALIAN  COUSINS. 

No  one  was  found  to  raise  a  disclaimer  the  following'  day 
when  Eila  proposed  that  the  family  should  dine  sumptuously 
at  one  o'clock  at  the  Duval's  at  the  corner  of  the  Rue  de 
I'Ecole  de  Medecine.  Mrs.  Clare,  upon  whom  joy  had  acted 
as  a  tonic,  declared  herself  well  enough  to  accompany  her 
children ;  and  the  happy  party  defiled  down  the  boulevard 
in  a  straggling  line,  and  entered  the  afore-mentioned  clioco- 
late-and-gold  palace  of  cheap  repasts.  No  necessity  now  for 
bringing  their  menu  within  the  Imiits  of  seventy-five  cen- 
times for  each. 

"  Eat  what  you  like,  dears,  and  as  much  as  you  like,"  was 
Eila's  repeated  injunction,  as  they  sat  all  together  at  a  square 
marble  table  on  the  ground-floor  near  the  window. 

Even  with  this  encouragement,  it  was  almost  in  fear  and 
trembling  that  they  gave  the  reins  to  their  appetites,  and 
ordered  full  portions  of  puree,  raie  au  beurre  noir,  and  other 
delicacies  of  the  kind.  Mamy  was  secretly  ashamed  that  the 
carnal  satisfaction  of  eating  her  fill  should  make  such  a  dif- 
ference in  her  sense  of  the  value  to  be  attached  to  existence. 
Here  were  only  three  successive  days  during  which  she  had 
been  living,  so  to  speak,  upon  the  fat  of  the  hind,  and  already 
the  thouglit  of  going  back  to  the  pincliing  and  scraping 
emptiness  of  the  previous  weeks  made  her  shudder.  She  felt 
a  sudden  pang  of  pity  for  the  hungry  poor. 

"  How  can  we  sit  down  to  our  meals  with  the  thought 
that  so  many  people  about  us  are  suffering  that  horrid  ache 
of  emptiness  ?  "  she  thouglit.  "  Can  it  be  that  they  get  used 
to  it  ?  But  no ;  I  should  think  it  only  went  on  getting  worse. 
I  will  give  some  of  my  money  every  day  to  that  blind  man 
who  sits  on  the  boulevard,  though  I  suppose  if  we  gave  away 
every  centime  that  we  have  in  charity,  things  would  be  as 
bad  as  ever  in  a  few  weeks,  and  we  would  be  in  the  same 
miserable  plight  as  before.  It  is  so  much  worse  to  see  one's 
own  people  hungry  than  otliers.  We  simply  could  not  stand 
it  if  we  really  felt  that  the  poor  were  our  brothers  and  sisters 


292  NOT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

in  any  kind  of  way,  as  we  are  told  we  should  feel.  After  all, 
it  is  nonsense,  that  notion  of  telling  people  how  they  ought 
to  feel.  One  may  tell  them  how  to  speak  and  how  to  act ; 
but  what  is  the  good  of  telling  them  how  to  feel  ?  Their 
feelings  are  under  nobody's  control — not  even  their  own  ; 
they  feel,  or  they  don't  feel,  because  they  can't  help  them- 
selves." 

Mamy's  meditations,  which  rendei'ed  her  unusually  silent 
during  the  meal,  resulted  in  her  giving  fifty  centimes  to  the 
blind  man  as  she  passed  him  on  her  way  home  the  same  day. 
Next  time  she  passed  she  had  no  change,  and  the  following 
day  she  purposely  walked  on  the  other  side  of  the  boulevard, 
to  avoid  being  confronted  by  his  red-rimmed,  sightless  eyes ; 
she  had  discovered  that  her  desires  increased  with  her  money, 
and  that  it  would  be  quite  possible  to  come  to  the  end  of  even 
ten  napoleons  after  all.  Eila's  only  extravagance  was  the 
purchase  of  a  faience  pot,  splashed  with  blue,  and  a  heap  of 
golden  brown  chrysanthemums.  With  the  aid  of  these  she 
imparted  a  decorative  aspect  to  the  recej)tion-room,  and  called 
the  family  to  admire  the  effect.  Mrs.  Clare  was,  as  usual,  the 
most  appreciative. 

"  It  is  considered  quite  vulgar  in  Japan  to  display  more 
than  one  work  of  art  at  a  time,"  she  observed.  "I  forget 
where  I  read  it,  but  you  may  be  sure  the  room  of  a  Japanese 
grandee  is  as  bare,  or  barer,  than  this.  It  is  a  thousand 
pities  there  is  nobody  to  see  it.  What  if  we  were  to  invite 
Mrs.  Warden  and  her  party  to  an  afternoon  tea." 

"  We  have  a  visitor  coming,  I  think,"  Eila  rej^lied  with 
a  mysterious  smile ;  "  but  I  want  you  to  let  me  receive  him 
here  first,  and  prepare  him  for  your  coming.  I  will  call 
you  very  soon  after,  I  promise.  Only  don't  ask  me  about 
it,"  as  her  mother  began  to  question  her  eagerly;  "it  isn't 
Willie,  that's  all  I  can  tell  you,  and  it's  a  secret.  But  I 
hope  it's  going  to  turn  out  a  pleasant  surprise." 

"  More  secrets  and  more  surprises ! "  exclaimed  Mrs. 
Clare.  "  You  surely  haven't  gone  and  put  into  another 
lottery  ? " 

"No,  there's  no  money  in  this  surprise,"  said  Eila  cheer- 
fully, "but  something  almost  as  good.     Only  I  can't  pre- 


HUBERT  RECOGNISES  HIS  AUSTRALIAN  COUSINS.  293 

pare  it  properly  if  everyone  doesn't  keep  out  of  the  way 
when  the  bell  rings." 

Almost  as  she  uttered  the  words  the  ting-  of  the  electric 
bell  rang  sharply  through  the  apartment.  The  family, 
with  the  exception  of  Eila,  scuttled  into  Dick's  room  at  the 
back,  the  door  of  which  was  heard  to  close  with  a  bang, 
followed  by  loud  expostulations  from  inside.  Eila  mean- 
time ran  precipitately  to  the  little  front-door  of  the  apart- 
ment. But  she  paused  with  her  fingers  on  the  handle, 
afraid  to  open  it  lest  she  should  betray  the  overweening 
agitation  that  mastered  her.  Her  very  breath  seemed  to 
fail  her,  though,  as  often  happens  when  our  emotions  are 
keenest,  she  was  outwardly  exceedingly  calm.  Though 
fully  prepared  for  the  sight  that  encountered  her  as  she 
opened  the  door,  she  could  hardly  forbear  starting  back  as 
she  perceived  Hubert  standing  021  the  landing  wrapped  in 
an  enormous  cloak,  from  the  folds  of  which  his  shaggy 
head  protruded  uncannily,  like  that  of  some  bird  of  prey. 

Though,  by  reason  of  his  deformity,  he  was  fully  half  a 
head  shorter  than  herself,  he  struck  her  as  looking  bigger 
and  more  formidable  than  on  the  occasion  of  their  first 
meeting.  She  made  no  demonstration,  however,  and  to  this 
fact  may  be  attributed  all  that  subsequently  befell  her  in 
connection  with  him.  Hubert  had  resolved,  as  he  laboured 
up  the  staircase,  to  Avatch  the  Bacchante's  demeanour  nar- 
rowly. If,  upon  a  second  encounter  with  him,  in  the  day- 
light, she  should  remind  him  by  word  or  gesture  of  the 
hideous  truth  she  had  charmed  away  from  his  conscious- 
ness for  two  blissful  hours  the  first  time  he  had  met  her — 
if,  even  though  involuntarily  and  unwittingly,  she  should 
force  him  to  remember  that  he  was  not  as  other  men,  he 
would  leave  her  there  and  then,  never  to  cross  her  path  or 
to  mock  her  beauty  by  his  accursed  presence  again.  Bitter- 
ly had  he  regretted  his  promise  to  call  upon  her.  The  recol- 
lection of  that  one  hour  during  which  she  had  leaned  upon 
his  arm,  looked  confidingly  into  his  eyes,  reclined  by  his 
side  like  a  tired  child  in  the  jolting  cab,  should  have  suf- 
ficed him  to  the  end  of  his  days.  Such  an  experience  had 
never  come  to  him  before,  and  could  never  come  a  second 


294:  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

time.  Fortune,  in  a  sportive  mood,  had  sent  him  to  the  aid 
of  beauty  in  distress  at  the  psychologic  moment,  and  should 
he  never  see  the  Bacchante  again,  she  would  probably  think 
of  him  henceforth  under  a  no  more  untoward  aspect  than 
that  of  her  defender  and  preserver.  To  appear  bodily  before 
her  in  tlie  light  of  day  would  be  to  destroy  the  spell  and  to 
embitter  eternally  the  remembrance  he  would  so  willingly 
have  cherished  of  her  in  his  own  behalf.  But  he  had  prom- 
ised, and  though  he  was  angry  with  himself  for  having 
promised,  he  was  yet  glad  that  he  had  so  good  an  excuse 
for  acting  in  defiance  both  of  his  anger  and  of  his  better 
judgment. 

If  Eila  maintained  her  presence  of  mind,  the  same  might 
be  said  of  her  cousin.  During  the  sharp  half-defiant  glance 
he  cast  at  her,  he  had  time  to  perceive  that  the  Bacchante 
was  no  mere  ballroom  and  footlight  beauty.  Perhaps  tlie 
pure  rich  colour  of  her  skin,  with  its  youthful  smoothness 
and  firmness  of  outline,  showed  even  to  greater  advantage 
in  the  garish  light  of  day.  Her  much- worn  black  merino 
was  encircled  by  a  frilling  of  soft  white  muslin,  which  be- 
comingly framed  her  statuesque  neck,  while  the  inevitable 
flower  nestled  against  her  fair  throat.  Her  hair,  that  grew 
lavishly  on  her  temples  and  forehead,  a  rare  beauty  in  a 
woman,  was  a  bounteous  adornment  in  itself.  It  was  suffi- 
cient for  Eila  to  perform  the  process  kii,own  as  tidying  her 
hair  to  look  fit  for  a  Parisian  coiffeur's  window. 

Hubert  took  off  his  hat  and  shook  hands  with  her  cere- 
moniously, and  she  cried  almost  simiiltaneously  : 

"The  money  came  yesterday — two  hundred  and  fifty 
gold  pieces  !     Can  you  believe  it  ?  " 

"Hardly,"  he  said,  smiling.  There  was  no  betrayal  in 
his  smile ;  then,  more  gravely :  "  I  think  you  came  out  of 
that  transaction  very  well." 

"  So  do  I !  "  triumphantly  ;  "  and  there  is  more  to  tell  be- 
sides." 

She  preceded  him  into  the  reception-room  as  she  spoke, 
where  a  chair,  bought  especially  for  the  occasion,  had  been 
I)laced  at  an  angle  whence  the  occupant  could  command  an 
elaborate  view  of  the  vase  of  chrysanthemums,  the  Cheva- 


HUBERT  RECOGNISES  HIS  AUSTRALIAN  COUSINS.  295 

lier's  picture  above  it,  the  highly-polished  mirror  to  the 
right,  and  the  wide  expanse  of  autumnal  sky  and  bare  tree- 
tops  through  the  curtainless  window.  The  weather  was 
just  chilly  enough  to  make  the  first  fu'e  of  the  season  that 
had  been  lighted  that  morning  in  the  new  and  highly  orna- 
mental stove  a  pleasant  feature  in  the  room.  Eila  invited 
her  visitor  to  seat  himself,  and  took  the  only  remaining 
chair  for  herself. 

For  conversational  pvu'jioses  two  stiff  chairs  in  an  unfur- 
nished room  form  the  most  uninspiring  background  that 
can  well  be  imagined,  but  in  the  present  instance  there  were 
topics  so  weighty  to  be  discussed  that  these  minor  considera- 
tions were  of  no  account. 

Young  Mrs.  Frost  did  not  give  her  visitor  time  to  make 
any  conventional  observations  as  to  the  brightness  of  the 
view  or  the  chilliness  of  the  day.  She  plunged  without  pre- 
amble into  her  great  news. 

"  What  do  you  suppose  I  have  found  out  since  I  saw  you 
— since  I  read  your  name  on  the  card  you  gave  me  the  other 
night  ? "  she  said  with  moimting  colour ;  and,  as  Hubert 
raised  his  eyebrows  inciuiringly :  "  Why,  that  you  and  I 
ai'e  cousins  ! "  she  added  in  tones  that  trembled  with  excite- 
ment. 

She  spoke  with  such  assurance,  her  expression  was  so 
radiant,  he  could  not  doubt  that  she  intended  him  to  accept 
the  startling  announcement  as  the  literal  truth. 

For  a  moment  Hubert  could  only  look  his  astonishment. 
Then :  "  I  am  exceedingly  flattered,"  he  said  courteously, 
though  with  evident  bewildei-ment,  "  unless " — he  paused 
and  smiled  sceptically — "unless,  as  they  say  in  Australia, 
you  ai'e  taking  a  rise  out  of  me." 

"  How  could  you  think  such  a  thing  ? "  Her  eyes  flashed 
an  eloquent  disclaimer.  "  It  is  the  simple  truth  I  am  telling 
you.  I  will  explain  it  all  directly.  But  first  would  you 
mind  looking  at  the  picture  over  there  on  the  wall — almost 
opposite — just  above  the  chrysanthemums  ? " 

Hubert  obeyed.  He  lifted  his  eyes  with  effort,  but  hav- 
ing observed  the  picture,  he  left  his  chair  and  walked  to- 
wards it  leisurely  for  a  closer  inspection.     He  had  refused 


296  NOT   COUNTING   THE   COST. 

to  lay  aside  his  cloak,  which  somewhat  resembled  that  of  a 
stage  hero,  and  which  he  wore  as  a  disguise  as  well  as  a 
covering.  We  know  that  the  Abyssinians  are  able  to  ex- 
press a  whole  scale  of  emotions,  varying  from  the  deepest 
respect  and  humility  to  the  loftiest  pride  and  defiance,  by 
tlie  simple  gesture  with  which  they  throw  the  corner  of 
their  mantle  over  the  shoulder  or  the  arm.  Hubert  had  un- 
consciously adopted  something  of  the  Abyssinian  custom  in 
his  manner  of  draping  himself  in  his  inseparable  cloak. 
When  he  leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  crossed  his  arms  be- 
neath its  folds,  he  was  satisfied  with  the  company  in  which 
he  hajipened  to  find  himself  and  willing  to  talk.  When  he 
sat  huddled  up  under  it  with  his  head  on  his  breast,  he  was 
brooding  over  the  curse  of  his  life.  When  he  stood  up  and 
threw  the  two  sides  back  over  either  shoulder,  he  was  inter- 
ested and  animated,  and  had  a  motive  for  dissimulating  his 
deformity  to  the  uttermost.  This  was  the  gesture  he  now 
emj)loyed  almost  instinctively  as  he  turned  towards  Eila, 
who  had  remained  seated  the  while,  and  who  was  watching 
him  with  eagerly  expectant  eyes. 

"Are  you  any  connection  of  the  gentleman  with  the 
queue  ? "  he  asked  deliberately  enough,  "  for  in  that  case  I 
may  certainly  claim  the  honour  of  the  relationship  you  at- 
test. This  picture  is  the  same  that  used  to  hang  in  my 
mother's  bedroom  when  I  was  a  boy— or,  rather,  it  is  the 
original,  for  I  believe  ours  was  only  a  copy :  it  is  the  por- 
trait of  my  grandfather— my  mother's  father " 

"And  my  mother's  grandfather —our  great-grandfather," 
interrupted  Eila  joyously.  "  Is  it  not  the  most  wonderful 
coincidence  in  the  world  ?  If  one  were  to  read  it  in  a  book, 
would  not  one  say  directly  that  it  was  too  improbable  ? " 

Her  eyes  were  sparkling.  Was  it  kinship  only  that 
caused  so  unwonted  a  glow  to  make  itself  felt  in  Hubert's 
breast  ?  He  held  out  both  hands,  and  Eila  rose  to  give  him 
her  own.  They  remained  in  his  grasp  while  he  said,  looking 
at  her  with  undisguised  pleasure  : 

"  So  you  are  my  cousin.  I  might  have  known  you  had 
some  claim  on  me  when  I  was  prompted  to  go  and  look 
after  you  the  other  night.     It  looks  as  though  there  were 


HUBERT  RECOGNISES  HIS  AUSTRALIAN  COUSINS.  297 

something  in  the  old  saying  that  'blood  is  thicker  than 
water,'  doesn't  it  ? " 

He  did  not  release  her  hands  immediately.  His  own 
were  pleasant-feeling,  powerful  hands  that  knew  to  a  nicety 
how  to  make  play  with  a  sword  or  to  manage  a  horse's 
mouth.  They  knew  also  how  to  express  the  fervour  of 
newly-discovered  cousinship  with  a  beautiful  young  woman, 
though  this  was  instinctive,  and  not  the  result  of  practice. 
Before  their  hands  separated,  Eila  and  her  cousin  looked  for 
an  instant  into  each  other's  eyes,  and  a  certain  mutual  liking 
grew  out  of  this  transient  glance.  To  be  indifferent  to 
Hubert's  deformity  was  impossible.  If  it  did  not  repel,  it 
inspired  a  pitying  interest. 

Now,  Eila's  nature  was  not  one  to  be  repelled  by  any 
form  of  affliction,  and  if  she  had  been  drawn  to  her  cousin 
in  the  first  instance  by  his  knight-errantry  in  her  behalf, 
the  feeling  was  not  diminished  by  the  fact  that  he  was  also 
an  object  for  her  pity.  As  he  looked  at  her,  she  became 
magnetically  aware  that  she  had  found  favour  in  his  eyes, 
and  the  reflection  was  not  displeasing  to  her. 

Nothing  more  readily  facilitates  the  establishment  of  a 
good  understanding  between  two  people  of  opposite  sexes, 
no  matter  what  their  age,  looks,  position  or  separate  re- 
sponsibilities may  be,  than  a  perception  of  the  kind  afore- 
said in  the  mind  of  the  woman.  When  we  are  sure  of 
pleasing  w^e  remain  instinctively  our  natui*al  selves,  which 
is  tantamount  to  saying  that  we  show  ourselves  at  our  best ; 
and  this  is  already  a  great  step  towards  the  engendering  of 
agreeable  relations. 

The  family  undergoing  durance  vile  in  Dick's  room  had 
time  afforded  them  to  wax  justifiably  wroth  with  their 
gaoler.  They  had  begun  to  rebel  long  before  their  sum- 
mons of  release  arrived,  for  Eila  had  important  matters  to 
plot  with  her  newly-found  cousin  and  champion  before  she 
could  reveal  her  secret.  Hubert  had  stepped  out  upon  the 
balcony,  after  releasing  her  hands.  Perhaps  he  wanted  to 
collect  his  thoughts,  or  perhaps  it  was  only  that  the  tete-a-tete 
upon  the  two  stiff  chairs  struck  him  as  unendurably  formal, 
and  Eila  following  him  out,  the  two  leaned  over  the  railings 


298  NOT   COUNTING   THE  COST. 

together — where  they  seemed  more  upon  a  level — hatless, 
despite  the  chill  in  the  November  air,  and  there  upon  that 
airy  perch,  with  the  quiet  gray  sky  above  them,  and  the 
noisy  rumble  from  below  helping'  to  screen  her  confusion 
by  the  opportunity  it  afforded  of  exclaiming  at  intervals : 
"  I  can't  make  it  clearer,  there  is  such  a  noise ! "  or  "  Can 
you  hear  with  all  that  clatter  ? "  she  had  in  a  measure  con- 
fessed herself  to  hini.  He  had  asked  her  a  few  leading  and 
direct  questions.  How  many  were  they  in  family  ?  What 
was  their  previous  history  ?  Why  had  they  come  to  Eu- 
rope ?  Eila  had  answered  with  simple  straightforwardness. 
She  had  alluded  in  the  course  of  her  narrative  to  her  own 
unhappy  marriage,  and  had  related  her  husband's  incarcera- 
tion in  a  lunatic  asylum  in  Tasmania.  She  had  kept  her 
face  averted  from  her  cousin,  looking  across  at  the  fountain 
on  the  broad  place  below,  as  she  imparted  these  facts  ;  there- 
fore she  could  not  tell  how  Hubert  looked  on  hearing  them, 
nor  what  he  had  thought,  but  slie  fancied  {was  it  only 
fancy  ?)  that  his  voice  sounded  more  constrained  the  next 
time  he  spoke ;  she  likewise  informed  him  of  her  mother's 
widowhood,  of  the  castles  in  the  air  the  family  had  built 
from  their  childhood  upwards,  of  their  reckless  journey 
home  and  the  terrible  penance  they  had  paid,  of  the  cruel 
straits  to  which  they  had  been  finally  reduced,  and  of  the 
desperate  resolution  she  had  taken  to  exhibit  herself  on  the 
stage  of  the  Folies-Fantassin ;  furthermore,  of  the  miracu- 
lous aid  afforded  them  by  the  result  of  her  experiment,  and 
of  the  marvellous  good  fortune  of  receiving  two  hundred 
pounds  the  very  next  day  without  further  parley. 

"  I  told  you  the  director  did  not  seem  an  unkind  man," 
she  said  naively ;  "  but  I  could  not  have  dreamed  he  would 
have  acted  in  such  a  high-minded,  delicate,  honourable 
manner.  The  money  was  sent  without  question  or  condi- 
tion, and  you  remember  I  was  only  for  a  very  short  time 
at  the  theatre.  All  I  had  to  do  was  to  sign  a  receipt,  and 
the  man  who  brought  the  money  was  so  respectful,  you 
can't  think.  He  looked  like  a  kind  of  superior  official — not  a 
bit  like  those  hateful  ouvreuses.  I  dare  say  he  was  chosen  on 
purpose,  for  it  was  a  great  sum,to  trust  him  with,  wasn't  it  ? " 


HUBERT  RECOGNISES  HIS  AUSTRALIAN  COUSINS.  299 

Hubert  smiled  rather  enigmatically  at  her  outburst  of 
enthusiasm  in  the  director's  behalf.  Perhaps  his  own  ex- 
perience of  this  gentleman  would  not  have  led  him  en- 
tirely to  endorse  her  testimony.  He  made  no  comment, 
however,  and  young  Mrs.  Frost  proceeded  to  assure  him  of 
her  firm  resolve  to  "  manage  better  for  the  future." 

"  It  all  comes  of  not  having  a  profession  or  a  handicraft 
of  some  kind  at  one's  finger's  ends,"  she  said,  with  a  wise 
little  nod  of  her  head.  "I  have  thought  since  all  these 
troubles  came  upon  us  that  people  who  don't  work — who 
can't  earn  what  they  consume,  I  mean — are  really  cumberers 
of  the  ground.  In  old  Mrs.  Frost's  cottage  in  Hobart— she 
was  my  mother-in-law,  you  know — there  was  a  text,  worked 
in  green  and  yellow  wools,  hanging  on  the  wall " — a  gleam 
of  retrospective  amusement  flitted  across  her  face — "  '  She 
eateth  not  the  bread  of  idleness.'  I  don't  need  the  green  and 
yellow  wools  to  remind  me  of  those  words  now,  for  I  could 
never,  never  forget  what  we  have  suffered  for  want  of  know- 
ing how  to  set  about  making  or  earning  some  money.  I 
mean  now  always  to  have  a  little  sum  laid  by  for  an  emer- 
gency, and  with  what  we  have,  and  what  I  shall  try  to  earn 
by  giving  English  lessons,  I  think  we  shall  be  safe  for  the 
future." 

•  Despite  the  confident  words,  there  was  an  undercurrent 
of  anxiety  in  her  manner.  Hubert  was  touched  by  the  un- 
reserved trust  she  placed  in  him.  He  had  encouraged  her 
to  confidence  by  his  manner  as  well  as  by  his  questions,  and 
already  she  felt  herself  upon  the  footing  of  an  old  friend 
with  him.  Besides,  was  he  not  her  cousin — the  only  creature 
among  the  strange  millions  who  surrounded  her  to  whom  she 
could  unburden  herself  of  a  portion  of  her  fears  and  misgiv- 
ings ?  It  was  true  that  she  might  carry  them  all  to  Eeginald 
in  her  letters,  but  the  fact  of  having  to  wait  eleven  or  twelve 
weeks  for  an  answer  was  a  motive  for  checking  her  outpour- 
ings in  that  direction.  Besides,  wliy  torment  him  by  dwelling 
upon  troubles  he  was  powerless  to  alle^nate  ?  Yet  it  was  a  re- 
lief to  talk  about  them  to  a  man  who  could  give  her  practical 
advice,  and  who  seemed  so  earnest  and  sincere  in  his  proffer 
of  sympathy  and  counsel.  Encouraged  by  these  reflections, 
20 


300  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

and  acquitting  herself  of  the  charge  of  disloyalty  to  Reginald 
by  resolving  that  she  would  tell  him  everything  now  that 
the  worst  of  their  money-troubles  was  over,  she  continued 
to  reply  to  the  questions  that  Hubert  addressed  to  her.  She 
did  not  attempt  to  extenuate  the  folly  and  imprudence  that 
had  characterized  the  family  move,  which,  indeed,  had  never 
sounded  more  imprudent  or  more  foolish  to  her  own  think- 
ing than  when  she  came  to  narrate  it  to  a  disinterested 
listener ;  but  she  closed  her  narrative  with  an  involuntary 
sigh. 

"  Still,  I  can't  be  sorry  I  did  what  you  know,"  she  re- 
sumed suddenly,  as  though  in  answer  to  some  adverse  crit- 
icism she  had  been  formulating  in  her  mind.  "  It  has  made 
such  a  wonderful  difference  in  our  lives  all  at  once.  If  I 
live  to  be  a  hundred,  I  shall  never  forget  the  scene  that  took 
place  yesterday  afternoon  when  we  found  ourselves  sud- 
denly rich." 

"  Does  your  mother  know  where  the  money  came  from  ? " 
inquired  Hubert. 

"  No."  Her  colour  deepened.  "  She  hasn't  the  least  idea. 
None  of  them  know.  They  think  I  won  it  in  a  lottery  ;  and 
it  ivas  a  kind  of  a  lottery."  She  cast  a  doubtful  glance  side- 
ways at  her  cousin,  but  quickly  changed  her  tone.  "  You 
are  laughing  at  me.  ...  I  know  what  you  are  thinking. 
They  used  to  call  me  the  special  pleader  at  home,  because  I 
never  luould  call  things  by  disagreeable  names.  I  know  it 
means  nothing  to  call  the  affair  of  the  other  night  a  lottery. 
It  wasn't  even  a  tableau  vivant,  as  I  tried  to  persuade  my- 
self at  first.  But  whatever  one  calls  it,  I  should  be  miserably 
humiliated  if  the  others  ever  came  to  know  about  it.  That 
I  should  have  had  the  pretension  to  be  paid  for  being  stared 
at !  That  I  should  have  made  a  public  exhibition  of  myself 
in  that  awful  place !  Why,  they  would  want  to  send  the 
money  back,  as  I  do  inyself  when  I  think  of  how  I  came  by 
it.  .  .  .  Only  I  don't  know  what  we  should  do  without  it," 
she  added  despondently. 

"  You  need  have  no  scruples  about  the  money,  I  assure 
you,"  Hubert  said  encouragingly  ;  "  but  you  must  allow  me 
to  remark  that  you  have  a  curious  method  of  reasoning. 


HUBERT  RECOGNISES  HIS  AUSTRALIAN  COUSINS.  301 

What  did  you  take  part  in  the  show  for  at  all,  if  it  was  not 
in  the  hope  of  gaining  a  prize  ? " 

"  A  prize — yes  ;  but  not  such  a  big-  one." 

"  Oh !  if  it's  the  bigness  you  object  to,  I  dare  say  the 
young  lady  with  the  tlu'ee  chins  who  sat  next  to  you  would 
not  object  to  sharing  it  with  you.  Most  probably  she  con- 
siders it  should  have  been  all  hers  by  rights." 

Eila  laughed. 

"  She  was  enormous,  wasn't  she  ?  And,  really,  some  of 
them  were  rather  awful !  .  .  .  But  we  haven't  settled  how  I 
am  to  account  for  having  met  you.  My  mother  and  the 
rest  are  waiting  in  a  back-room  all  this  time  until  I  call 
them.  I  would  not  tell  them  of  my  great  discovery  until 
you  had  ratified  it ;  so  I  only  told  them  a  visitor  was  coming 
in  whom  they  would  be  interested,  so,  of  course,  they  are 
impatient  to  see  you.  But  do  give  me  a  suggestion.  I  don't 
want  to  involve  myself  more  than  I  can  help." 

"You  want  to  make  me  responsible  tliis  time,''  said 
Hubert  mockingly.  "  But  why  not  make  a  clean  breast  of 
the  whole  business  ?  There  is  nothing  discreditable  to  you 
in  it." 

"  I  can''t ! "  she  interrupted  him  quickly.  "  If  I  were  to 
tell  my  mother,  she  would  never  keep  it  to  herself ;  and — 
and — it  would  put  all  sorts  of  notions  into  the  head  of  my 
younger  sister  that  would  do  no  end  of  harm.  You  don't 
understand,  indeed." 

Hubert  held  his  peace.  He  thought,  nevertheless,  that 
he  was  beginning  to  understand.  Her  last  words  had 
revealed  even  more  than  she  intended.  He  gathered  from 
them  that  this  fair  young  cousin  felt  herself  responsible  for 
the  moral  as  well  as  the  physical  well-being  of  the  younger 
portion  of  the  tribe,  and  concluded  somewhat  hastily  that 
the  mother  must  possess  but  little  force  of  character. 

"  I  must  explain  how  you  found  us  out,  too,"  Eila  con- 
tinued helplessly.  "  We  are  all  very  credulous,  but  I  can't 
tell  tlie  othei-s  you  were  guided  to  us  by  a  miraculous  in- 
stinct— can  I  ? " 

"  Well,  hardly ;  but  you  might  say  you  allowed  me  to 
see  you  to  your  door  the  other  night  to  protect  you  from 


302  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

some  roughs  who  were  annoying  you.  How  would  that  be  ? 
There  is  nothing  untrue  in  it,  and  it  is  quite  a  likely  occur- 
rence. There  is  nothing  to  conceal  either  in  the  fact  that  I 
gave  you  my  card  at  parting,  and  asked  leave,  as  a  com- 
patriot and  a  stranger,  to  call  upon  you." 

"No  ;  that  will  do  nicely,"  said  Eila,  relieved. 

She  was  about  to  leave  him  in  quest  of  the  incarcerated 
members  of  the  family,  when  a  thought  struck  her  that 
caused  her  to  turn  an  eager  face  towards  him  again. 

"  There  is  just  one  other  thing  I  want  to  ask  you  before  I 
call  ray  mother,"  she  began  hesitatingly.  "How  can  I  be 
sure  you  care  to  know  us  at  all  after  what  I  have  told  you  ? 
All  my  life  long  I  shall  be  grateful  to  you  for  helping  me 
the  other  night,  but  I  would  rather  keep  the  memory  of  that 
to  myself  and  never  see  you  again,  than  have  you  think  you 
were  under  any  kind  of  obligation  to  be  our  friend  just  be- 
cause of  the  accidental  discovery  that  our  families  are  con- 
nected." 

Hubert  did  not  answer  immediately.  He  was  folding 
his  cloak  around  him  as  though  in  preparation  to  depart, 
and  Eila  remained  watching  him  in  pained  and  bewildered 
discomfiture.  Her  sensibilities  were  deeply  wounded  by 
his  silence.  After  a  mortified  pause,  she  continued  hur- 
riedly : 

"  You  may  believe  me — there  is  not  the  slightest  neces- 
sity for  you  to  make  yourself  known  if  you  don't  wish  to  do 
so.  I  purposely  kept  my  knowledge  of  your  name  to  my- 
self, and  no  one  in  the  family  has  the  remotest  idea  of  who 
you  are." 

But  even  as  she  gave  him  this  assurance,  a  sense  of  bitter 
disappointment  was  making  her  breast  heave.  To  play  the 
part  of  protector  and  good  fairy  of  the  family  had  become 
the  ruling  ambition  of  Eila's  soul,  ever  since  Fate  had  denied 
her  the  legitimate  outlet  for  her  early  and  more  passionate 
impulses.  Even  as  a  child,  to  prepare  a  "  surprise  "  for  the 
little  ones  had  been  the  greatest  delight  she  knew,  and  the 
feeling  had  returned  to  her  when  she  found  herself  back 
among  her  brothers  and  sisters  once  more.  To  produce  the 
mythical  cousin  Hubert  de  Merle  as  a  sequel  to  showering 


HUBERT  RECOGNISES  HIS  AUSTRALIAN  COUSINS.  303 

gold  pieces  into  the  apartment  would  have  been  a  crown- 
ing triumph — a  consummation  such  as  even  her  mother's 
prophecies  and  her  own  day-dreams  had  never  been  able 
to  surpass.  But  to  make  such  a  consummation  possible, 
Hubert,  like  Barkis,  must  be  willing.  The  least  misgiving 
or  drawing  back  on  his  part  would  spoil  the  entire  pro- 
gramme ;  and,  after  all,  when  she  came  to  think  of  it,  why 
should  he  show  himself  anxious  to  recognise  the  claims  of 
cousinship  advanced  by  a  penniless  family  of  Bohemians, 
such  as  she  and  her  belongings  must  undoubtedly  appear  in 
his  eyes  ?  What  wonderful  consequences  were  to  follow 
his  sensational  introduction  to  the  family  circle  she  could 
not  clearly  have  exi^lained.  But  the  introduction  in  itself 
was  a  coup  de  theatre  it  was  liard  to  be  called  upon  to  sui'- 
render. 

Eila  did  not  see,  or  perhaps  it  was  only  that  she  did  not 
rightly  interpret,  the  expression  in  Hubert's  face.  Neither 
did  she  understand  that  his  hesitation  had  nothing  to  do 
with  the  impoverishment  of  her  surroundings.  Had  she 
been  able  to  look  into  his  mind,  she  would  have  seen  that 
considerations  of  a  very  different  kind  were  influencing  it. 
In  the  fii'st  place,  he  hated  to  meet  strangers.  However  they 
might  seek  to  disguise  their  feelings,  he  was  morbidly  con- 
scious that  the  first  impression  he  aroused  in  them  must  be 
one  of  pained  astonishment.  To  meet  blood  relations  in  the 
guise  of  strangers  was  even  worse  than  to  meet  ordinary 
strangers,  for  it  was  odious  to  think  how  they  would  proceed 
to  discuss  his  deformity  the  instant  his  back  was  turned. 
He  might  be  as  clever  as  a  Crichton  and  as  generous  as  a 
Haroun  al  Raschid,  his  hump  would  overshadow  these  and 
all  his  other  qualities,  and  remain  eternally  associated  with 
his  image,  to  the  detriment  of  all  besides. 

There  was  another  point  still,  though  with  respect  to  this 
he  heaped  scorn  upon  himself  for  letting  it  bias  him.  From 
what  he  had  seen  of  Eila,  he  did  not  deem  that  she  could  be 
classed  among  the  women  who  are  capable  of  kindling  a  pure 
flame  of  friendship  in  men's  hearts.  She  was  too  captivating, 
too  troublant,  to  use  the  suggestive  French  word  that  oc- 
curred to  hina  in  connection  with  her,  and  for  which  thei'e  is 


304  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

no  fitting-  English  equivalent.  To  know  her  and  to  be  pos- 
sessed by  her — and  the  one  seemed  almost  a  consequence  of 
the  other — would  unfit  a  man  for  carrying  on  the  daily  af- 
fairs of  life  in  the  workaday  world.  And  to  hope  to  establish 
any  warmer  ties  than  those  of  friendship  with  the  Bac- 
chante was  out  of  the  question.  Unless,  indeed  .  .  .  What 
dark  possibilities  went  whirling'  through  Hubert's  mind  in 
the  wake  of  this  "  unless  "  I  would  not  venture  to  say.  To 
be  sure,  she  was  a  wedded  wife ;  but  that  was  the  least  of 
the  obstacles  that  weighed  with  him,  seeing  in  what  man- 
ner and  degree  she  was  wedded.  The  one  insurmountable, 
insuperable,  damnable  obstacle  was  in  himself,  and  his  de- 
formity, which  rendered  it  impossible  and  ludicrous  that  he 
should  court  the  favour  of  whatsoever  fair  and  gracious 
woman  he  might  adore.  And  yet,  what  had  women  not 
been  known  to  do  for  money  ?  In  the  case  of  his  beautiful 
cousin  there  was  a  still  stronger  chord  than  mere  cupidity 
to  play  upon.  Let  anyone  stretch  forth  a  hand  to  hurt  her 
belongings,  who  were  evidently  as  the  Lord's  anointed  in 
her  eyes,  and  it  would  be  seen  of  what  her  nature  was 
capable.  To  save  them  from  penury  and  suffering  she 
might  be  induced  to  advance  many  paces  farther  along  tlxe 
road  upon  which  she  had  taken  the  first  step  when  she  sat 
with  vine-crowned  temples  and  bared  shoulders  in  the  midst 
of  a  ribald  crowd  in  the  French  music-hall.  As  for  sunning 
himself  platonically  in  the  Bacchante's  beauty,  and  becom- 
ing the  benefactor  of  her  family  for  the  pure  pleasure  it 
afforded  him,  this  was  an  alternative  that  Hubert  aban- 
doned almost  as  soon  as  it  suggested  itself.  The  mainte- 
nance of  a  friendship  that  should  go  thus  far  and  no  farther 
was  an  ideal  in  which  he  had  but  little  faith.  He  had  seen 
his  cousin  only  once  before,  and  already  he  foresaw  with 
certainty  that  such  a  friendship  would  speedily  overleap 
itself,  like  vaulting  ambition,  and  fall  on  the  other  side,  as 
far,  at  least,  as  his  own  feelings  were  concerned. 

His  better  impulse  prompted  him  to  bestow  some  sub- 
stantial aid  on  her  family  in  gratitude  for  the  one  illumined 
hour  of  his  dark  existence  that  he  owed  her,  and  then  to 
leave  her  presence  for  ever.     But  even  if  he  adopted  this 


HUBERT  RECOGNISES  HIS  AUSTRALIAN  COUSINS.  305 

course,  it  might  be  accomplished  without  his  allowing  him- 
self to  be  drawn  into  the  circle  of  her  belongings,  and  be- 
fore he  had  time  to  succumb  still  farther  to  her  influence. 
To  benefit  her,  it  was  not  necessary  that  he  should  also  burn 
his  wings  like  the  proverbial  moth  at  the  candle,  and  carry 
away  a  life-long  scar.  It  is  possible  that  Hubert  would  have 
acted  upon  this  second  and  more  chivalrous  impulse  if  he 
had  not  happened  to  raise  his  eyes  at  this  moment  and  to 
catch  an  expression  in  Eila's  face  that  instantly  overthrew 
his  resolution.  Though  his  reflections  and  hesitations  had 
lasted  in  reality  but  a  very  few  seconds,  the  time  had  seemed 
unendurably  long  to  his  companion.  Such  mortification 
and  humiliation  were  written  in  her  eloquent  eyes  that  he 
thought  of  nothing  but  how  to  drive  them  most  speedily 
away.  Whatever  might  be  her  motive,  the  evidence  of  her 
anxiety  to  retain  him  was  secretly  very  gratifying  to  him, 
and  he  hastened  now  to  reassure  her  by  saying  warmly : 

"  Pray  don't  think  me  very  rude.  I  am  very  much  hon- 
oured by  your  offer.  As  a  rule  I  avoid  making  fresh  ac- 
quaintances.    I  need  not  tell  you  why." 

It  was  the  first  allusion  he  had  made  to  his  affliction, 
and  without  pr-emeditation  Eila  found  her  eyes  suddenly 
suffused.  Hubert  noted  the  change  in  her  face,  and,  curi- 
ously enough,  felt  himself  drawn  magnetically  closer  to 
her. 

"  I  am  something  of  a  bear,  I  admit,"  he  continued  hur- 
riedly ;  "  and  you  will  allow  that  there  are  excuses  for  me. 
I  would  never  have  dreamed  of  coming  forward  the  other 
evening  if  there  had  been  anyone  by  to  help  you." 

"What  a  happy  thing  for  me  that  you  did,"  said  Eila 
heartily,  her  face  beaming  once  more  with  gi-atitude  and 
pleasure.     "Then  I  may  call  the  others  at  once  ? " 

"  You  may  prepare  them,"  he  made  reply,  meaningly, 
but  she  would  not  appear  to  understand.  She  left  him 
abruptly,  and  he  turned  away  from  the  balcony  to  make  a 
fresh  examination  of  the  picture.  As  he  crossed  the  room 
to  view  it  more  closely,  he  caught  a  transient  and  unex- 
pected glimpse  of  his  own  distorted  reflection  in  the  pol- 
ished mirror,  with  the  silhouette  of  the  square  protruding 


306  ^OT   COUNTING  THE  COST. 

shoulders  that  seemed  to  hold  his  large  head  wedged  be- 
tween them,  and  the  unshapely  mould  of  the  back.  He 
mentally  apostrophized  this  image  with  something  that, 
uttered  aloud,  would  have  been  not  unlike  "  You  damned 
fool ! "  and  turned  his  back  upon  it,  as  he  stood  in  contem- 
plation of  the  straight  and  courtly  effigy  of  his  own  and 
the  Bacchante's  joint  ancestor— the  distinguished  Chevalier 
de  Merle. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HUBERT  MEETS   HIS   COUSINS. 

"  I  KNEW  it ! "  cried  Mrs.  Clare  triumphantly,  as  Eila 
concluded  her  story.  "  Children,  what  did  I  promise  you 
when  we  came  away  from  Hobart  ?  I  knew  we  should  find 
him  all  along,  I  always  said  so.  Where  is  he  ?  Where  is 
Hubert  ?    Take  me  to  him  at  once." 

"  He  is  waiting  to  see  you,  mother,"  said  Eila  in  subdued 
tones,  as  a  hint  to  her  mother  to  repress  the  exuberance  of 
her  delight ;  "  but,  oh  !  please  wait ;  don't  rush  off  in  such 
a  hurry :  there  is  something  I  want  to  tell  you  all  first.  Our 
cousin  is  not  like  other  people.  Perhaps  he  had  a  fall,  or 
something,  when  he  was  young."  Eila  could  not  resist  her 
instinct  to  smooth  away  a  disagreeable  fact.  "  I  don't  know 
— but  he  is — is "  She  drew  up  her  shoulders  in  uncon- 
scious portrayal  of  Hubert's  normal  attitude,  for  the  parti- 
tion wall  was  flimsy,  and  she  was  sensitively  afraid  lest  he 
should  catch  the  iigly  word.  Her  pantomime  was  uninten- 
tionally more  expressive  than  her  words,  and  the  family 
shrank  back  dismayed.  All  but  Mamy,  who  had  not  seen 
the  gesture,  but  who  had  read  the  expression  written  upon 
the  faces  of  the  rest. 

"  He  is  not  mad  ? "  she  said  in  an  awed  stage  whispei\ 

"  Mad !  nonsense ! "  retorted  Eila  in  the  same  tones. 
"  Only  a  little  disfigured." 

The  relief  which  this  announcement  caused  found  vent 
in  a  violently  repressed  hysterical  giggle  on  the  i^art  of  the 


HUBERT  MEETS  HIS  COUSINS.  307 

others.  It  was  one  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  Clare  family 
to  laugh  in  season  and  out  of  season — more  frequently  out 
than  in.  Under  the  present  emergency  it  took  a  long  time 
to  bring  their  facial  muscles  back  to  a  decorous  society 
angle.  When  this  was  partially  accomplished  they  made 
an  advance  to  the  door,  following  their  mother  in  single 
file,  like  Alpine  tourists,  or  a  troop  of  Indians  on  the  war- 
path. 

If  Hubert  was  a  bear,  he  was  at  least  a  well-trained  one. 
He  did  not  glower  at  women  and  girls.  There  was,  besides, 
something  so  gipsy -like,  so  unconventional  and  so  naive,  in 
the  aspect  of  the  lady  and  children  (for  his  young  cousins 
struck  him  as  being  very  childish  when  he  saw  them 
grouped  together)  who  defiled  into  his  presence,  that  they 
might  almost  have  passed  for  more  curious  specimens  of  hu- 
manity than  himself.  This  in  itself  was  a  reassuring  refiec- 
tion.  It  was  to  be  also  recorded  in  their  favotu-  that  they 
were  better  trained  in  the  art  of  dissimulating  than  any 
young  people  he  had  met  hitherto,  or  was  it  that  their  sister 
had  coached  them  for  the  occasion  ?  In  either  case  they  ap- 
peared utterly  and  absolutely  unimpressed  by  the  fact  that 
Nature  had  handicapped  him  so  cruelly.  They  clustered 
round  him,  each  with  a  hand  extended,  and  a  nasal-sound- 
ing chorus  of  greeting,  in  which  he  had  the  surprise  of  hear- 
ing his  Christian  name  chanted  by  the  youngest  of  the 
band.  It  would  appear,  then,  that  he  had  been  a  household 
word  among  them  for  yeai'S,  while  he  himself  was  ignorant 
of  their  very  existence. 

"  How  we  have  looked  forward  to  this  day,  my  dear  own 
cousin  ! "  Mrs.  Clare  cried  on  entering.  The  others  clam- 
oured their  welcome.  Hubert  had  retained  his  cloak,  and 
the  vision  he  presented  to  the  family  was  that  of  a  dark 
bearded  face,  sallow-hued,  but  not  red,  with  a  broad  dented 
forehead  and  two  oblique  eyebrows.  The  nose  was  big  and 
rugged,  but  not  unduly  wide.  The  jaw  was  concealed  under 
a  harsh  gi'izzled  beard  and  moustache.  There  was  an  ex- 
pression peculiar  to  the  face  which  presented  a  curious  com- 
bination of  feelings,  and  which  the  young  Clares  learned  to 
identify  with  it  from  the  first  time  of  their  seeing  their  cous- 


308  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

in.  It  was  made  up  of  many  emotions,  part  vexation,  part 
deprecation,  part  ironical  mirth,  and  part  reproach.  It  was 
an  entirely  characteristic  and  individual  expression,  and 
Eila  for  one  knew  in  a  very  short  time  just  what  kind  of 
thing's  to  say  in  order  to  provoke  it.  To  refuse  the  offer  of  a 
treat,  or  of  a  benefit  of  some  kind,  for  instance,  upon  the 
ground  of  not  liking  to  give  trouble,  was  a  sure  way  of 
bringing  it.  From  the  outset,  the  appearance  and  behaviour 
of  his  new  relatives  had  brought  this  expression  into  Hu- 
bert's face.  It  was  the  exact  rendering  of  the  kind  of  sensa- 
tion they  aroused  in  him.  "Very  intelligent,  but  utter 
fools,"  might  have  been  his  first  rough  verdict  upon  them, 
for  the  two  qualities,  be  it  said,  are  quite  compatible.  The 
very  enthusiasm  they  were  prepared  to  lavish  upon  him, 
when  for  all  any  one  of  them  knew  to  the  contrary  he 
might  have  been  an  escaped  bushranger  in  disguise,  was  a 
proof  of  their  utter  ignorance  of  the  ways  of  the  world.  Yet 
he  could  not  look  upon  their  effusions  entirely  as  hysterical 
gush.  It  was  so  e^vident  that,  for  some  reason  or  other  he 
could  not  divine,  they  were  really  spontaneous  and  sincere. 
It  was  perhaps  the  easier  to  tolerate  them  that  the  girls  of 
the  family  were  so  good-looking.  Though  far  from  possess- 
ing the  beauty  of  her  sister,  Mamy  was  a  vision  that  might 
have  rejoiced  the  eyes  of  most  people.  As  for  the  swarthy 
lad  with  the  glowing  black  eyes,  Mr.  de  Merle  reserved  his 
opinion  about  him,  though  I  am  afraid  the  idea  flashed 
through  his  mind  that,  if  he  required  an  instrument  to  en- 
able him  to  play  upon  the  corde  sensible  in  the  beautiful 
Bacchante's  organization,  he  would  not  have  far  to  look 
for  it. 

"  And  how  did  you  find  us,  Hubert  ?  I  may  call  you 
Hubert  ? "  said  Mrs.  Clare  radiantly,  after  the  first  effusions 
were  over.     "  For  all  our  efforts  to  find  you  were  in  vain." 

"  I  must  suppose  Providence  directed  me,"  said  Hubert, 
with  a  swift  look  in  Eila's  direction,  which  caused  her  to 
blush  guiltily.  "  Anyhow,  is  it  not  a  singular  coincidence 
that,  upon  the  one  occasion  in  my  life  when  I  was  able  to 
render  a  slight  service  to  a  charming  young  lady,  she  should 
turn  out  to  be  my  cousin  ?  " 


HUBERT  MEETS  HIS  COUSINS.  309 

"  I  knew  it  must  come  some  day,"  Mrs.  Clare  affirmed, 
with  jaunty  assurance.  "  Why,  our  main  object  in  coming 
home,  Hubert,  was  to  find  you  out— to  show  you  our  precious 
heirloom  over  there  " — she  pointed  majestically  to  the  pic- 
ture— "  and  to  ask  you  whether  you — you " 

But  the  rest  of  the  sentence  was  destined  to  remain  eter- 
nally incomplete,  for  Eila  interposed  at  this  juncture  with 
a  sudden  suggestion  that  their  cousin  should  be  given 
some  tea. 

The  suggestion  was  couched  in  the  friendliest  tones ;  yet 
there  was,  nevertheless,  a  hint  of  menace  in  Eila's  soft  voice 
that  was  clearly  understood  by  her  mother  and  the  remain- 
ing members  of  the  family,  and  which  apprised  them  dis- 
tinctly that  on  no  account  must  they  venture  to  allude  to 
the  ruby  at  this  early  stage  of  the  proceedings. 

Afternoon  tea  is  a  meal  which  is  possible  in  the  most 
Bohemian  of  milieus.  It  is  the  one  refuge  and  resource  of 
hospitably-inclined  but  straitened-in-circumstances  gentility. 
Of  the  store  of  tea  that  had  been  brought  from  the  Antipodes, 
a  small  and  precious  deposit  still  remained,  which  Eila  pro- 
duced as  a  connoisseur  in  wines  might  produce  a  bottle  of 
crusted  port  a  century  old. 

The  family  kettle  was  set  on  the  stove.  Mamy  arranged 
the  cups  upon  the  marble  mantelpiece  ;  they  were  the  latest 
addition  purchased  with  one  of  the  magic  coins.  Dick 
slipped  outside  after  a  hurried  consultation  with  his  sister, 
and  reappeared  a  few  moments  later  with  a  bottle  of  cream 
and  a  St.  Honore.  There  were  seats  for  everybody,  for 
Truca  had  made  various  excursions  into  the  adjoining  rooms, 
and  had  returned  upon  each  occasion  carrying  a  straw-cov- 
ered chair.  When  the  kettle  began  to  sing,  the  company 
gathered  in  an  irregular  circle  round  the  stove,  and  Mamy 
cut  half  the  St.  Honore  in  six  pieces — with  more  to  follow — 
and  handed  them  round.  The  tea  was  excellent,  and  it 
seemed  to  have  the  effect  of  still  further  loosening  the 
tongues.  Had  Mr.  Wilton  been  able  to  see  his  misanthropic 
boss  in  the  midst  of  the  family  party  at  the  Boulevard  de 
I'Observatoire,  he  would  have  declared  that  the  Bacchante 
had  wrought  some  spell  upon  him.     Hubert,  indeed,  was 


310  NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

like  Saul  when  the  evil  spirit  had  been  charmed  away  from 
him.  His  impressions  were  somewhat  of  the  following 
nature  :  This  curious  family  of  Antipodean  cousins  was  evi- 
dently prepared  to  treat  him  like  a  long-lost  brother.  Why 
should  he  not  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the  joke,  and  show 
himself  deeply  and  vitally  interested  in  the  separate  history 
of  each  member  in  turn  ?  While  the  mother  was  recounting 
these  with  all  a  mother's  enthusiastic  annotations,  he  might 
look  from  time  to  time  at  the  beautiful  and  incomprehensible 
Bacchante,  and  enjoy  the  sense  of  the  secret  power  over  her 
that  the  secret  they  shared  in  common  seemed  to  confer 
upon  him.  He  noticed  that  Eila  was  magnetically  aware  of 
it  when  he  looked  at  her  in  this  way,  though  her  eyes  might 
be  fixed  on  the  ground  or  she  might  essay  to  give  herself  a 
countenance  by  making  some  entirely  superfluous  observa- 
tion to  her  sister.  There  was  a  fascination  in  compelling 
her  to  tm-n  her  eyes  towards  him,  and  in  reading  the  depre- 
cation that  was  written  in  them.  After  all,  she  had  willed 
that  things  should  shape  as  they  were  doing.  He  would 
have  gone  away  if  he  had  been  allowed.  She  had  compelled 
him,  in  a  measure,  to  remain,  and  now  events  must  take 
their  course.  Hubert  was  a  superstitious  fatalist  as  well  as 
a  scientific  fatalist.  He  would  have  said  that  since  it  is  in 
the  nature  of  pigeons  to  be  eaten  by  hawks  and  serpents,  it  was 
evident  that  a  certain  proportion  of  pigeons  must  be  infallibly 
destined  to  fulfil  this  law  of  their  nature.  Moreover,  would 
it  not  be  the  best  thing  that  could  happen  to  this  guileless 
family,  stranded  in  the  midst  of  Paris,  to  find  someone  who, 
for  reasons  of  his  own,  would  adopt  them,  so  to  speak,  and 
set  them  on  their  legs  ?  They  represented  the  pigeons  in  the 
human  world,  and  might  consider  themselves  lucky  if  the 
inevitable  hawk  only  devoured  one  of  their  number,  and 
feathered  tha  nests  of  the  remainder  with  its  soft  down. 
Though,  if  you  came  to  that,  the  metaphor  of  devouring  sig- 
nified nothing.  A  woman  is  not  devoured  even  metaphor- 
ically because  she  finds  a  generous  protector  who  benefits 
her  and  her  family  in  acknowledgment  of  favours  secret, 
sweet,  and  precious. 

Hubert  had  never  in  his  life  talked  so  much  on  the  surface 


HUBERT   MEETS  HIS   COUSINS.  311 

while  his  thoughts  were  so  far  removed  from  the  topic  of 
his  talk.  But  he  proved  himself  equal  to  the  occasion.  So 
delightfully  did  he  converse,  and,  what  was  still  more  to  the 
point,  so  delightfully  did  he  listen,  that  he  made,  as  the 
French  say,  the  conquest  of  one  and  all  of  the  members  of 
the  Clare  family. 

He  went  away  after  obtaining  their  promise  to  dine  with 
him  in  a  body  at  the  table  d'hote  of  the  Louvre  the  follow- 
ing day.  The  invitation  made  the  hearts  of  the  assembled 
family  leap— Truca  especially,  whose  imagination  had  been 
fired  by  Mamy's  description  of  the  palatial  splendours  of  the 
hotel,  and  of  the  iced  Polar  bear,  whereof  she  had  eaten  the 
paws.  After  Dick  had  ushered  his  cousin  to  the  bottom  of 
the  four  flights  of  stairs,  he  returned  to  the  apartment  look- 
ing thoughtful ;  he  did  not  even,  as  was  the  case  after  Mrs. 
Warden's  visit,  stand  on  his  head  to  relieve  himself. 

He  found  his  sisters  eagerly  discussing  the  visitor  with 
their  mother. 

"Of  course  it  is  something  of  a  drawback,"  Mrs.  Clare 
was  saying.  "  though  for  a  man  it  does  not  matter  so  mucli. 
And  what  a  powerful  head  he  has ! " 

"  Wasn't  ^sop  a  hunchback,  mother  ? "  piped  Truca. 
"  And  he  was  so  clever  ! " — with  a  sigh. 

"  He's  not  like  Quasimodo,  that's  one's  comfort,"  remarked 
Mamy  pensively.  "  I  don't  think  I  could  stand  a  one-eyed, 
red-headed  cousin  vfith  a  hump,  even  though  it  should  be 
Hubert." 

"No,"  said  Dick.  "I  guess  he's  more  like  Caliban — a 
shaggy  kind  of  monster.  Well,  I  wouldn't  mind  being  in 
his  skin  and  having  his  tin — that's  poetry,  you'll  observe." 

"  I  would,  then  ! "  exclaimed  Mamy ;  "  and  so  would  you, 
whatever  you  may  say.  What's  the  good  of  money,  except- 
ing to  buy  happiness  ?  And  you  couldn't  be  happy  if  you 
were  made  like  that !  " 

"Couldn't  I?"  said  Dick  meaningly.  "That's  all  you 
know  about  it.     But  one  can't  argue  with  a  girl." 

"I'm  not  a  girl — I'm  a  woman  grown,"  retorted  Mamy  ; 
"  and,  at  any  rate,  I'm  as  old  as  you,  so  there  ! " 

And  a  moment  later  the  family  was  engaged  in  a  warm 


312  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

and  closely-contested  battle  of  words,  turning  upon  the  ques- 
tions of  the  age  when  people  might  be  considered  adults,  of 
what  the  end  and  aim  of  money  implied,  and  of  what  were 
the  ditferent  interpretations  to  be  attached  to  that  portent- 
ous and  indefinable  word  "  happiness." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HUBERT  ADOPTS  THE   FAMILY. 

The  fortunes  of  the  Clares  had  taken  an  upward  swing. 
The  two  concierges  could  not  accuse  the  family  from  outre- 
mer  of  being  without  a  protector  any  longer.  From  the 
day  when  Hubert  made  his  way  up  the  long  flight  of  stairs 
that  led  to  the  apartment  on  the  quatrieme  their  position  in 
this  respect  had  changed. 

Madame  Potin  was  used  now  to  seeing  the  deformed 
stranger  drive  daily  to  the  door,  and  stump  slowly  up  the 
steps,  carxying  now  some  exquisite  roses  with  genuine  trail- 
ing stalks,  anon  a  small  parcel,  which  doubtless  contained 
some  charming  present  for  "ces  dames."  Many  were  the 
conjectures  made  by  the  husband  and  wife  as  to  which  of 
the  aforementioned  "  dames  "  was  the  favoured  one  of  the 
three,  for  Monsieur  and  Madame  Potin  would  have  shrugged 
their  shoulders  disdainfully  had  you  suggested  to  them  that 
the  visitor  was  upon  mere  terms  of  friendship  with  the  in- 
mates of  tlie  apartment  on  the  fourth.  Even  had  they  been 
made  to  believe  this  strange  fact,  it  would  not  have  in- 
creased their  respect  for  any  of  the  parties  concerned.  Upon 
the  strength  of  the  present  hypothesis,  their  ox^inion  of  the 
family  had  gone  up  with  a  bound,  for  their  friend  evidently 
had  "  la  bourse  bien  garnie."  Upon  the  first  occasion  of  his 
calling,  Madame  Potin  had  spoken  of  him  contemptuously 
to  her  husband  as  "  ce  bossu."  After  Hubert  had  given  her 
five  francs  she  had  changed  his  title  to  "  ce  pauvre  monsieur 
avec  la  bosse  "  ;  and  with  the  next  largesse  she  dropped  the 


HUBERT  ADOPTS  THE  FAMILY.  313 

"  bosse  "  altogether,  and  refeiTed  to  him  as  "  ce  pauvre  cher 
monsieur  "  only. 

Speculations  went  on  in  the  den-like  loge  for  a  fortnight, 
for  Monsieur  Potin  was  inclined  to  think  that  "  la  chataine  " 
was  the  lucky  one,  from  the  fact  that  he  had  seen  Mamy 
open  the  door  one  day  to  her  cousin,  while  he  was  waxing 
the  landing  outside.  Madame  Potin  declared  her  belief  that 
it  was  "  la  noire."  "  Apres  cela,"  she  added  cjTiically, 
"  c'est  peut-etre  toutes  les  deux."  Monsieur  Potin  allowed 
that  the  "  noii'e  "  was  "  un  morceau  friand."  But  as  for  that, 
"  la  maman  "  was  not  to  be  disdained  even  now. 

The  family,  though  entirely  unconscious  of  the  cause  of 
the  new  prestige  they  had  acquired,  could  not  help  noticing 
that  the  concierges  were  no  longer  either  surly  or  insolent. 
True,  they  cast  a  meaning  look  at  the  girls  and  their  mother 
every  time  they  went  in  and  out ;  but  this  might  have  been 
owing  to  the  fact  that  the  hats  of  the  latter  had  been  re- 
trimmed  and  their  bonnet-strings  renovated.  In  the  mean- 
time, moved  by  her  children's  entreaties,  Mrs.  Clare  ab- 
stained from  making  any  reference  to  the  history  of  the 
ruby  in  Hubert's  presence.  She  could  afford  to  bide  her 
time  and  to  enjoy  the  accomplishment  of  her  prophecies  to 
the  full.  Her  attitude  at  this  time  was  one  of  complete  and 
continued  triumph.  Had  not  all  her  predictions  been  rea- 
lized, and  more  than  realized  ?  Had  not  Hubert  of  the  ruby 
— whom  her  incredulous  children  had  almost  begun  to  look 
upon  as  a  mythical  personage,  or  a  male  Mrs.  Harris — 
proved  himself  all  and  more  than  she  had  promised  ?  Down 
with  the  cold  counsels  of  prudence  and  the  so-called  dictates 
of  reason.  Instinct  was  surer  than  either.  More  than  ever 
was  Mrs.  Clare  convinced  that  the  one  and  only  guide  to  be 
followed  was  her  own  unaided  inspiration.  Wliere  would 
she  have  been  now  if  she  had  allowed  herself  to  be  withheld 
by  the  fears  of  a  pack  of  inexperienced  children  ?  All  she 
had  reckoned  upon  had  come  to  pass.  She  had  brought  the 
family  home,  and  they  had  found  Hubert  de  Merle,  and  he 
had  immediately  recognised  that  his  mission  in  life  was  to 
provide  for  them.  Mrs.  Clare  was  secretly  convinced  in  her 
own  mind  that  even  his  deformity  was  a  Providential  dis- 


314  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

pensation,  granted  for  the  sole  purpose  of  preventing  him 
from  founding  a  home  of  his  own,  and  of  obliging  him  to 
keep  his  affections  and  his  fortune  free,  until  those  who 
were  predestined  to  reap  the  benefit  of  them  should  come 
his  way.  The  thing  seemed  so  self-evident  and  so  reason- 
able, now  that  it  had  come  to  pass,  so  entirely  the  result  of 
her  own  foresight  as  well,  that  Mrs.  Clare  could  hardly 
bring  herself  to  feel  grateful  to  their  cousin  for  his  lavish- 
ness.  Also  if  she  avoided  the  topic  of  the  ruby,  it  was  not 
only  in  consideration  of  Eila's  representations,  but  because 
there  was  really  no  present  call  for  mentioning  it,  or  for 
proposing  to  give  up  the  picture  in  exchange  for  the  pre- 
cious heirloom.  After  all,  a  whole  silvei'-mine  counts  for 
more  than  a  single  ruby.  When  the  latter  is  converted  into 
money  you  soon  come  to  an  end  of  its  fiery  splendour, 
whereas  the  former,  if  well  located  and  well  managed,  is  as 
inexhaustible  as  Aladdin's  purse.  It  was  a  bewildering 
thing  to  the  Clare  family  at  first  to  see  three  gold  coins 
handed  to  a  waiter  for  a  dinner  and  no  change  given,  as 
was  the  case  when  Hubert  took  them  all  to  dine  one  even- 
ing at  Bignon's.  They  could  have  sunk  beneath  the  table 
and  hidden  themselves  under  the  folds  of  the  satin  table- 
cloth at  the  reflection  that  they  had  swallowed  all  this 
money  in  pistachio  sauce  with  salmon  trout,  iced  cham- 
pagne, and  bombe  glacee  a  la  Russe.  But  as  time  went  on 
and  the  francs  and  gold  pieces  flowed  from  Hubert's  purse 
like  a  stream  of  Pactolus,  especially,  too,  as  no  faintest 
change  of  expression,  no  hint  of  a  suspicion  that  he  was 
being  asked  to  give  more  than  was  reasonable,  betrayed 
itself  in  his  rough-cast  features,  the  family  grew  reassured. 
It  was  understood  that  they  should  meet  their  cousin's 
friend,  Mr.  Wilton,  a  genuine  Australian  like  themselves, 
some  evening  at  dinner  ;  but  the  evening  was  long  in  com- 
ing, for  Jack  had  been  called  to  England  by  the  unexpected 
arrival  of  a  friend  with  a  racehorse,  and  had  no  idea  of  the 
nature  of  the  sequel  to  the  evening  at  the  Folies-Fantassin, 
which  was  keeping  his  boss  in  Paris. 

Several  weeks  went  by,  during  which  Mrs.  Clare  and  her 
children  gx-ew  more  and  more  habituated  to  the  new  order 


HUBERT  ADOPTS  THE  FAMILY.  315 

of  thing's.  If  Hubert  had  no  intention  of  adopting  the  fam- 
ily permanently,  it  was  conferring  but  a  cruel  kindness  upon 
them  to  steep  them  in  the  luxury  they  were  enjoying  now. 
It  is  hard  to  go  back  to  a  portion  of  bouilli  from  which  all 
the  flavour  has  been  soaked  and  boiled,  when  you  have  been 
toying  with  foie  gras  in  aspic  and  salmi  de  perdreaux ;  hard 
to  await  your  turn  in  a  struggling  crowd  at  the  tail  of  a  fast- 
filling  omnibus,  when  a  springy  landau  or  swiftly-rolling 
brougham  has  borne  you  hither  and  thither  at  your  pleasure. 

The  only  person  who  felt  an  occasional  misgiving  at  be- 
ing immersed  in  these  Capuan  delights  was  Eila,  but,  con- 
formably with  her  nature,  she  could  not  find  it  in  her  heart 
to  cast  even  a  transient  shadow  upon  the  joy  of  the  rest. 
Nothing  could  have  been  more  evident  than  that  they  were 
made  for  the  enjoyment  of  money.  After  the  first  awkward- 
ness of  astonishment  and  unaccustomedness  had  worn  off, 
they  could  one  and  all  step  into  a  carriage,  enter  a  restaurant 
or  a  theatre,  or  give  a  direction  to  a  coachman  or  a  waiter, 
with  as  natural  an  air  as  though  to  the  manner  born.  Dick 
was,  perhaps,  the  aptest  pupil.  He  seemed  to  be  always  pro- 
vided now  with  pocket-money,  and  would  spend  it  royally. 
Surrounded  by  the  aureola  shed  upon  him  by  his  silver-king 
cousin,  he  began  to  be  noticed  in  the  streets  for  his  handsome 
eyes  and  suj)ple  figure.  Eila  felt  something  of  a  mother's 
pride  and  tender  alarm  as  she  intercepted  the  glances  cast  in 
his  direction  by  the  tastefully-attired  grisettes.  True  to  their 
principle  of  taking  no  thought  of  the  future,  save  only  the 
remote  and  intangible  future  of  what  Mrs.  Clare  called  their 
spiritual  essences,  the  young  Clares  continued  to  sun  them- 
selves in  their  good  fortune  as  though  it  were  to  last  for 
ever. 

Willie  alone  refused  to  be  seduced  from  his  post  in  the 
London  bank,  or  to  become  a  pensioner  upon  his  cousin's 
bounty.  In  vain  his  mother  sent  him  a  crossed  letter  of 
eight  pages — Mrs.  Clare's  letters  were  masterpieces  of  elo- 
quent reasoning,  in  which  she  showed  him  point  by  point 
that  Hubert  de  Merle,  being  in  possession  of  the  ruby  which 
rightly  belonged  to  herself  and  her  daughters,  was  only  ac- 
quitting himself  of  a  debt  of  long  standing  in  providing  for 
21 


316  NOT   COUNTING  THE  COST. 

the  family — in  vain  declared  that,  though  no  open  reference 
to  the  subject  had  been  made,  Hubert  was  proving  tacitly  in 
the  clearest  way  that  he  appreciated  the  situation  precisely 
as  she  did. 

Willie's  only  reply  was  a  blunt  inquiry  as  to  what  steps 
were  being  taken  to  put  Dick  in  the  way  of  earning  his  live- 
lihood, and  to  suggest  that,  as  their  cousin  was  so  generously 
disposed,  Truca  should  be  placed  in  a  good  school. 

The  family  exchanged  pitying  glances  as  this  letter  was 
read  aloud.  Poor  Willie  was  always  hopelessly  matter-of- 
fact.  It  is  possible,  nevertheless,  that  even  the  delights  of 
theatres,  restaurants,  and  long  expeditions  to  Versailles,  St. 
Cloud,  and  other  famous  parks  and  palaces,  would  have  be- 
gun to  pall  in  time.  But  before  the  novelty  had  had  time 
to  wear  off,  Hubert  made  a  most  entrancing  proposition.  It 
was  none  other  than  that  of  combining  a  tour  through  Cen- 
tral Europe  in  a  family  party.  He  had  proposed  the  plan  to 
Mrs.  Clare  in  a  way  that  made  it  impossible  to  refuse,  even 
had  she  been  minded  so  to  do,  which,  it  is  needless  to  say, 
she  was  not. 

"  You  see  what  a  helpless  old  fellow  I  am,"  he  said ;  it 
was  upon  the  occasion  of  Truca's  sewing  a  button  on  his 
glove  for  him.  "  If  you  will  take  care  of  me  on  our  travels, 
and  make  up  your  minds  about  the  places  you  want  to  see, 
I  will  be  paymaster  and  choose  the  hotels.  That's  a  fair 
division  of  labour,  and  I  dare  say  we  won't  quarrel  about 
the  route." 

To  say  that  the  family  were  transported  into  the  seventh 
heaven  by  this  proposal  is  to  give  but  a  faint  idea  of  the 
ecstatic  delight  with  which  they  hailed  it.  The  seventh 
heaven  of  soberer  folk  became  a  sevenfold  seventh  to  them. 
Dick  alone  did  not  share  the  transports  of  the  rest.  His  atti- 
tude of  late  had  given  Eila  some  uneasiness.  After  dinner, 
which  was  now  a  sumptuous  evening  meal  that  seemed 
upon  the  rare  occasions  when  the  family  dined  at  home  to 
come  as  easily  as  though  it  had  sprung  from  some  magic 
table-cloth,  Dick  would  find  a  pretext  for  taking  himself  off, 
and  once  he  had  disappeared,  Eila  knew  that  the  night 
would  be  on  the  wane  before  his  step  was  heard  ascending 


HUBERT  ADOPTS  THE  FAMILY.  317 

the  staircase  again.  He  had  entirely  thrown  over  Comte 
and  the  Positivist  creed.  Alfred  de  Musset's  poems  and  the 
"  Fleurs  du  Mai  "  of  Beaudelaire  were  the  books  that  tum- 
bled out  from  behind  his  pillow  when  Eila  went  to  make  his 
bed  in  the  morning ;  for  Eila  was  still  Cinderella  in  the 
early  part  of  the  day.  She  had  refused  to  let  Hubert  engage 
a  servant  for  the  bare  wards  of  the  quatrieme,  which,  de- 
spite the  golden  atmosphere  in  which  the  family  moved,  re- 
mained as  bare  as  ever.  It  was  useless  to  fui-nish  on  the 
eve  of  a  journey,  and  Hubert  had  suggested  that  they 
should  look  for  a  pavilion  at  Passy  in  a  garden  on  their  I'e- 
turn.  It  seemed  to  be  taken  for  granted  now  that  he  had, 
in  the  literal  sense  of  Mrs.  Clare's  vague  prophecy,  uttered  a 
year  ago  on  the  Cowa  veranda,  really  adopted  the  family. 
Nor  could  he  be  accused  of  showing  any  preferences.  He 
never  invited  one  member  of  the  household  without  the 
others.  Whatever  might  be  the  nature  of  the  daily  enter- 
tainment or  festivity,  all  alike  were  bidden  to  share  in  it. 
Neither  did  he  address  his  conversation  more  particularly 
to  one  than  to  another.  Upon  days  of  threatening  snow, 
when  the  air  outside  seemed  to  pinch  the  cheeks  and  make 
the  eyes  smart,  he  would  spend  his  afternoons  by  the  stove 
of  the  reception-room  smoking.  Eila  had  speedily  discov- 
ered that  he  preferred  his  pipe  to  a  cigar,  and  the  family, 
taking  their  cue  from  her,  declared  with  one  accord  that  if 
there  was  one  thing  they  liked  better  in  the  world  than  an- 
other, it  was  tobacco-smoke.  The  talk  on  these  occasions 
would  be  pleasant  enough.  The  Bush  and  Tasmania  were 
fertile  themes  of  interest ;  Hubert  never  alluded,  however, 
to  what  might  be  called  the  middle  distance  of  his  life. 
Then,  it  was  always  a  pleasure  to  hear  of  the  days  when  the 
duplicate  portrait  of  the  Chevalier  had  watched  over  his  child- 
hood. But  more  interesting  still  to  the  Clare  family  was 
the  topic  of  the  Unknowable,  and  the  speculative  domain  it 
opened  up.  The  earnest  persistency  with  which  Mrs.  Clare 
would  revert  to  this  fathomless  subject,  and  pour  out  the 
same  stream  of  conjectures  daily,  as  the  Danaides  poured 
water  into  their  unfillable  pails,  seemed  to  afford  Hubert 
much  amusement.    The  interruption  for  afternoon  tea  would 


318  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

make  an  agreeable  break.  If  it  were  only  the  sound  of  the 
kettle  singing  on  the  stove,  and  the  sight  of  the  girls  bestir- 
ring themselves  to  arrange  the  cups  and  cut  the  thin  bread- 
and-butter,  there  was  a  suggestion  of  domestic  intimacy  and 
cosiness  in  the  function  peculiarly  grateful  to  one  who,  like 
Hubert,  had  led  a  hermit's  life  for  so  long. 

It  might  have  been  supposed  that  nothing  now  was  want- 
ing to  fill  Eila's  cup  of  satisfaction  to  the  brim.  Whence 
came,  then,  the  feeling  that  haunted  her  perpetually,  that  a 
price  would  be  exacted  for  all  these  blessings,  which  she, 
and  she  alone,  would  be  called  upon  to  pay  ? 

It  came  upon  her  suddenly  one  rainy  afternoon  with 
the  force  of  a  thunderbolt.  She  had  turned  round  without 
warning  after  filling  her  teapot,  and  encountered  Hubert's 
eyes  resting  upon  her.  It  was  evident  to  her  that  he  had 
not  expected  her  to  intercept  his  glance,  and  that  he  had  no 
time  to  change  his  expression  before  she  caught  its  mean- 
ing. So  clearly  and  relentlessly  this  meaning  was  expressed 
that  her  soul  quailed  before  it.  Sooner  or  later,  at  his  own 
hour,  Hubert  would  appear  before  her  and  claim  the  pay- 
ment of  his  debt.  In  what  coin,  and  after  what  fashion 
he  might  claim  it,  she  could  not  say ;  but  claim  it  he 
would,  and  at  her  hands  alone.  The  conviction  came  upon 
her  with  the  unreasoning  force  of  an  inspiration.  She  had 
seen  the  look  in  her  cousin's  eyes  that  Mephistopheles  might 
have  worn  when  he  stood  behind  Marguerite  in  the  church. 
It  spoke  of  such  a  masterful  certainty  of  having  and  hold- 
ing her  in  his  own  good  time  that  she  trembled  lest  others 
besides  herself  should  have  guessed  its  meaning.  But  Mamy 
and  Truca  were  laughing  over  some  trivial  joke,  and  Mrs. 
Clare  was  posing  for  Dick,  who  had  not  found  a  studio  to 
go  to  as  yet,  but  exercised  his  talent,  when  the  fit  took  him, 
upon  mother  and  sisters.  Eila  lowered  her  eyes  in  relief, 
but  the  impression  of  Hubert's  glance  made  her  shudder 
when  she  thought  of  it  afterwards.  In  vain  she  essayed  to 
reason  down  her  fears,  to  treat  her  terror  as  the  fancy  of  a 
sick  brain.  That  the  expression  she  had  read  in  Hubert's 
eyes  conveyed  the  mute  betrayal  of  his  belief  that  she 
was  his  prey,  was  an  idea  which  began  to  take  possession  of 


HUBERT  ADOPTS  THE  FAMILY.  319 

her  mind.  Nothing  but  time  could  dislodge  it.  She  told 
herself  that  with  this  feeling  it  would  have  been  her  imme- 
diate duty  to  come  to  an  understanding  with  her  cousin. 
She  should  take  him  aside  and  tell  him  that  she  could  not 
continue  to  allow  him  to  heap  favours  upon  them  as  he  had 
been  doing  hitherto.  If  he  would  assist  her  to  find  an  hon- 
ourable employment,  and  give  Dick  some  sound  advice  upon 
the  score  of  the  studio,  well  and  good.  He  would  still  have 
earned  their  undying  gratitude,  and  she  hoped  he  would 
allow  them  to  look  upon  him  as  a  friend  for  life. 

Eila  rehearsed  the  interview  nightly  in  various  forms  in 
her  own  mind,  as  she  lay  awake  through  the  slowly-creeping 
hours,  while  the  happy  family  slumbered.  And  when  the 
morning  came  she  put  off  for  yet  another  day  the  carrying 
out  of  her  resolve.  All  manner  of  objections  presented 
themselves.  Supposing  she  should  only  provoke  the  catas- 
trophe she  was  so  anxious  to  avoid.  Supposing  Hubert 
should  read  her  meaning  wrongly,  and  suspect  her  of  seek- 
ing to  obtain  some  permanent  benefit  for  the  family. 

The  warning  to  let  a  sleeping  dog  lie  would  recur  to  her 
in  connection  with  his  look,  and  render  her  yet  more  fearful 
of  breaking  the  spell.  There  was  also  the  impending  jour- 
ney to  be  taken  into  account.  Would  it  not  be  a  cruel  thing 
to  disturb  the  joyous  and  confident  anticipations  that  the 
family  indulged  in  from  morning  to  night  ?  Perhaps  there 
would  yet  be  time  to  speak  when  they  returned  from  their 
travels.  Let  them  at  least  enjoy  undisturbed  the  wondrous 
treat  they  had  been  promised.  Eila  could  almost  have  found 
it  in  her  heart  to  envy  them  their  confidence.  How  entirely 
happy  would  she  have  been  without  the  hidden  terror  that 
oppressed  her !  Hubert  was  not  only  kindly  and  courtly  : 
he  possessed  such  a  store  of  knowledge  that  to  go  out  with 
him  upon  the  usually  profitless  round  of  sight-seeing  was  to 
come  back  with  one's  mind  filled  with  fresh  views  and  in- 
terests undreamed  of  before.  Life  would  have  been  one 
dream  of  bliss  under  its  present  aspect  had  she  only  been 
able  to  exorcise  the  spectre  she  had  raised.  But  all  her  en- 
deavours were  powerless  to  drive  it  away. 

And  yet  even  before  this  nightmare  had  come  upon  her, 


320  NOT  COUNTINa  THE  COST. 

and  when  she  had  found  her  dreams  of  pleasure  most  en- 
tirely realized,  had  she  not  felt  that  it  was  impossible  to 
maintain  a  constant  sense  of  rapture  and  surprise  ?  It  is  a 
comforting  theory  to  those  who  ponder  upon  the  hideous 
mystery  of  physical  pain  that  the  sensation  of  suffering, 
like  that  of  joy,  has  certain  fixed  limits  beyond  which  it 
cannot  go.  This  at  least  is  the  belief  of  those  amongst  us 
who  have  not  realized  the  meaning  of  the  word  "  infbiity  " 
in  connection  with  joy  or  sorrow.  Eila  would  have  de- 
clared that  the  theory  was  true  as  regarded  happiness  if  not 
as  regarded  misery,  for  even  when  there  had  been  no  night- 
mare, and  all  her  wishes  for  the  family  had  seemed  on  the 
point  of  coming  true,  she  had  not  been  able  to  rise  to  the 
pitch  of  ecstatic  satisfaction  she  considered  it  incumbent 
upon  her  to  feel. 

A  few  weeks  ago  the  idea  of  travelling  with  the  family 
through  Europe  in  comfort  and  luxury  would  have  appeared 
a  wild  and  unattainable  dream  of  delight.  Now  that  prepa- 
rations were  being  actually  made  to  carry  it  into  effect,  the 
lassitude  of  reaction  was  creeping  over  her.  The  phase  of 
misery  through  which  the  family  had  passed  seemed  far 
enough  away,  but  she  could  not  forget  that,  though  they 
themselves  had  escajied,  millions  of  their  fellow-creatures, 
with  no  silver-king  cousin  to  help  them,  were  groaning  un- 
der a  similar  load. 

Mamy  was  oppressed  by  no  such  thoiights.  She  was  still 
at  the  age  when  happiness  for  oui'selves  means  happiness, 
or  the  possibility  of  it,  for  all  the  universe  around.  It  had 
been  a  delicious  moment  for  Mamy  when  she  had  informed 
Mrs.  Warden  that  they  were  going  to  travel  through  Ger- 
many and  Italy,  and  she  had  seen  the  surprise  bordering 
upon  incredulity  depicted  upon  that  lady's  face. 

"  What !  all  of  you  together  ? "  she  had  exclaimed. 

"Yes,"  said  Mamy;  "there  is  a  cousin  of  my  mother's  in 
Paris  who  is  going  with  us — Mr.  de  Merle,  of  Tarragunyah." 

"  What !  the  silver-mine  De  Merle ! "  ejaculated  Mrs.  War- 
den, more  profoundly  astonished  than  ever.  "  Dear  me ! 
how  extraordinary  !     Since  when  has  he  been  your  cousin  ? " 

This  was   not   exactly  the  form   in  which  she  had  in- 


A  NEW  CATASTROPHE.  321 

tended  to  put  her  question,  but  astonishment  rendered  her 
incoherent.  She  found  herself  called  upon  to  make  a  rapid 
and  complete  readjustment  of  the  mental  focus  whence  she 
had  been  accustomed  to  view  the  peculiar  family.  Such  a 
volte-face  was  not  to  be  accomplished  without  a  sense  of 
giddiness. 

"  Since  when  have  we  found  out,  you  mean,"  said  Mamy 
composedly,  "We  always  knew  Mr.  de  Merle  was  our 
cousin,  but  we  did  not  expect  to  find  him  in  Paris  so  soon." 

"He  is  not  married,  I  believe  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Warden  cu- 
riously. 

"  Married !     Oh  no  !  he  is  not " 

It  would  have  seemed  as  though  Mamy  had  been  on  the 
point  of  making  some  confidence  she  might  have  regretted, 
for  she  stopped  suddenly  short  and  said  no  more. 

"  Not  what  ?     Not  a  marrying  man  ?  " 

"No,  not  a  marrying  man  at  all,"  repeated  Mamy,  catch- 
ing at  the  vague  formula,  and  all  Mrs.  Warden's  efforts  to 
make  her  more  explicit  failed  in  their  object. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  NEW  CATASTROPHE. 

It  was  a  bright  morning  in  New  Year's  week — such  a 
morning  as  the  frost  and  sunshine  working  in  harmony  will 
occasionally  produce  for  the  delight  of  shivering  humanity. 
Mamie  stood  on  the  balcony  of  the  quatrieme,  beating  her 
arms  with  both  hands,  as  she  had  seen  the  coachmen  do,  to 
keep  out  the  cold.  She  had  left  her  elder  sister  to  the  task  of 
turning  out  the  contents  of  the  weather-beaten  trunks  on  the 
polished  floor  of  the  reception-room  as  a  preliminary  to  fill- 
ing them  with  wearing  apparel  for  the  contemplated  tour. 
An  animated  discussion  had  been  carried  on  between  Eila 
and  her  mother  upon  the  subject  of  what  to  take  and  what 
to  leave  behind.  Mrs.  Clare  insisted  that  the  greater  portion 
of  the  lamentable  family  bric-d-brac  should  be  included  in 


322  NOT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

the  baggage,  and  Eila  found  it  necessary  to  fight  a  fresh  bat- 
tle over  every  object  she  took  up  from  the  heap  of  odds  and 
ends  scattered  on  the  floor. 

Partly  to  escape  the  discussion,  and  partly  because  there 
was  so  much  to  look  at  out  of  doors,  Mamy  danced  out  upon 
the  balcony,  shutting  the  folding  glass-doors  behind  her  as 
she  passed  out  of  the  room.  The  frosty  air  seemed  to  bite 
her  cheeks  and  tweak  her  nose,  but  it  was  impossible  not  to 
have  an  illusion  of  warmth  under  so  brilliant  a  sun,  and  by 
continuing  to  beat  her  arms  and  to  breathe  upon  her  finger- 
tips, she  contrived  to  cheat  her  sensations  while  she  leaned 
over  the  railing  and  watched  the  scene  below. 

If  the  fresh  delight  of  youth  in  change  and  variety  could 
be  indefinitely  maintained,  Flammarion's  conception  of  an 
after-existence  devoted  to  a  tour  among  ever  new  celestial 
bodies  might  have  much  to  recommend  it.  To  our  little  girl 
from  Hobart,  the  aspect  of  the  booths  that  had  sprung  up  in 
the  Paris  streets  during  New  Year's  week,  and  that  converted 
the  beautiful  city  into  the  semblance  of  a  monstrous  fair, 
was  a  spectacle  as  exhilarating  as  it  was  novel.  She  could 
follow  the  line  of  booths  a  long  way  down,  the  boulevard 
from  her  elevated  post  of  observation.  And  first  came  a 
shed  filled  to  overflowing  with  shining  globes,  in  silver  and 
gold,  in  red  and  blue,  that  dangled  from  the  ceiling  and  lay 
heaped  upon  the  counter  in  resplendent  jirofusion,  like  the 
treasures  of  Aladdin's  cave  in  a  theatrical  extravaganza. 
Next  came  a  canvas-covered  booth  that  Mamy  passed  over 
quickly.  It  seemed  like  a  discordant  note  in  a  gay  chorus ; 
for  the  exterior  walls  displayed  the  effigy  of  a  murderer  in 
the  act  of  strangling  his  victim,  painted  in  bright  vermilion 
and  yellow  ochre.  Close  by  was  a  ginger-bread  stall,  with 
the  contents  bedecked  in  bindings  of  pink  and  white  sugar. 
There  were  orange  stalls  overflowing  with  oranges  in  silver 
wrappings,  and  cosy  booths  where  crisp  hot  gauffres  were 
served  at  a  sou  per  head.  The  roofs  of  the  booths  sparkled 
with  glittering  rime,  and  in  the  streets  the  ambulant  vendor 
of  the  new  toy  of  the  season  (a  miniature  guillotine  that 
adroitly  decapitated  a  Prussian  assassin)  was  walking  up 
and  down,  and  stopping  the  passers-by  with  his  cry  of 


A  NEW  CATASTROPHE.  323 

"  Achetez  le  nouveau  jouet  de  raiinee — achetez  le  Prussien 
decapite." 

Mamy  would  have  liked  to  spend  all  her  morning-  in 
watching-  the  New  Year  junketers  pass  in  and  out  of  the 
booths.  She  felt  herself  in  a  holiday  frame  of  mind.  Syd- 
ney Warden  had  betaken  himself  to  the  Riviera  with  his 
mother  and  sister,  and  though  Mamy  would  not  have  gone 
so  far  as  to  say  that  his  absence  was  a  boon,  she  could  not 
help  feeling  that  it  was  a  relief  to  be  spared  the  necessity  for 
encouraging-  or  discouraging  him  for  the  present.  The  pros- 
pect of  the  European  tour  was  another  motive  for  feeling 
joyful.  And  to  crown  all,  Mamy  had  been  ordered  by  Hu- 
bert to  procure  herself  a  new  tailor-made  travelling-  suit  at 
a  grand  costumier's  on  the  other  side  of  the  Seine.  Even 
this  last  delightful  consideration,  however,  could  not  pre- 
vent her  from  perceiving  that  the  air  was  very  biting.  If 
you  cannot  hold  fire  in  your  hand  by  thinking  on  the  frosty 
Caucasus,  neither  can  you  keep  your  hands  warm  with  the 
thermometer  below  zero  by  filling  in  the  details  of  a  tailor- 
made  dress  in  your  imagination.  Mamy  danced  back  into 
the  reception-room  as  she  had  danced  out  of  it,  and  burst 
into  a  gay  laugh  as  she  discovered  Eila  seated  on  the  floor, 
her  lap  filled  with  a  heterogeneous  collection  of  nondescript 
articles  over  which  she  was  shaking  her  head  despairingly. 

"  You  look  cross  for  once,  Eila,"  she  cried  mockingly ; 
"  one  would  think  you  were  playing  a  game  of  forfeits  with 
mother.  Here's  a  thing  and  a  very  pretty  thing,  and  what's 
to  be  done  with  the  owner  of  this  pretty  thing  ? "  She 
snatched  up  an  old  glove  and  waved  it  in  the  air  trium- 
phantly. 

"  What  indeed  ! "  said  Eila  dolefully  ;  "  perhaps  you  can 
make  mother  listen  to  reason,  Mamy,  for  I  can't.  What  we 
are  going  to  do  with  'Selections  from  the  Poets,'  and  a  Tas- 
manian  cookery-book,  and  Dick's  first  attempt  at  drawing — 
to  say  nothing  of  a  broken  Chinese  workbox  and  an  old 
bird-6age — on  our  travels  I  can't  imagine.  Mother  wants 
them  all  to  be  packed  in  with  our  clothes." 

"They  take  no  room  to  speak  of,"  said  Mrs.  Clare 
promptly  ;  "  and  they're  all  worth  something.     Dear  me  !  I 


324  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

had  that  box  when  I  was  your  age,  Mamy.  I  wouldn't  part 
with  it  for  any  money.  They  don't  send  such  objects  as 
that  out  of  China  any  longer,  I  believe.  I  dare  say  they 
have  lost  the  secret  of  making  them.  I  know  I  never  saw 
another  like  it  anywhere." 

"  And  the  cage,"  interrupted  Eila  with  a  sigh,  "  it  cost 
seven  and  sixpence  in  Hobart  when  it  was  new,  and  we  had 
it  in  use  for  years.     It's  only  fit  for  the  bac  cTordure  now." 

"  That  cage !  Why,  it's  the  very  thing  to  pack  small  ob- 
jects in,"  Mrs.  Clare  said,  with  cheerful  assurance;  "you 
can  find  what  you  want  in  it  directly — and  that  is  a  great 
advantage.  Besides,  if  it  was  worth  seven  and  sixpence  be- 
fore, it's  worth  quite  five  francs  now ;  and  I'm  not  going  to 
throw  away  five  francs,  or  put  temptation  into  the  way  of 
the  concierge  after  we've  gone." 

The  discussion  was  inten*upted  by  the  sudden  vibration 
of  the  electric  bell.  Everyone  started,  and  Eila  composed 
her  coxm.tenance  as  well  as  she  was  able,  expecting  to  see 
her  cousin's  ungainly  form  cross  the  threshold.  But  it  was 
not  Hubert ;  only  the  postman,  who  walked  in,  uninvited, 
as  Paris  postmen  are  wont  to  do,  and  who  handed  her  a 
small  blue  paper,  stamped  with  strange  hieroglyphics,  and  a 
paper  book,  which  he  requested  her  to  sign.  Eila  had  risen 
hastily  from  the  floor,  and  stood  abashed  in  the  midst  of  the 
flotsam  and  jetsam  of  the  family  relics.  She  received  the 
paper  with  so  dazed  an  air  that  the  postman  eyed  her  sus- 
piciously, and  asked  her  for  the  second  time  if  she  was 
"  bien  Madame  Frost,"  before  he  handed  her  the  book  for 
her  signature. 

It  was  a  relief  to  find  that  her  mother  and  sister  had  left 
the  room.  Even  Truca  was  not  present,  for  she  had  run 
away  after  oi^ening  the  door  to  the  postman ;  therefore,  when 
Eila  had  signed  the  book  and  despatched  the  messenger 
with  three  sous  for  his  pour-hoire,  she  proceeded  to  inspect 
the  missive  at  her  leisure.  It  proved  to  be  a  money-order 
for  twelve  hundred  and  fifty  francs — fifty  pounds  of  Eiiglish 
money.  While  she  was  engaged  in  wondering,  with  some- 
thing like  a  feeling  of  terror,  whether  it  was  Hubert  who 
had  sent  her  this  money,  and,  if  so,  with  what  purpose,  a 


A  NEW  CATASTROPHE.  325 

second  pressure  of  the  electric  bell,  which  she  answered  in 
person  this  time  after  thrusting  the  paper  hastily  into  her 
pocket,  brought  her  the  explanation  of  the  mystery.  It 
came  in  the  guise  of  a  telegram,  with  the  curt  address  of 
"  Frost,"  the  number  of  the  house,  and  the  words  "  Observa- 
toire,"  Paris.  Eila  tore  it  open.  The  contents  were  the  fol- 
lowing three  words :  "  Receive  fifty. — Reginald." 

So  it  was  Reginald  who  had  sent  her  the  money.  Alas ! 
how  much  must  it  have  cost  him  to  send  her  even  this  curt 
message,  was  Eila's  first  thought.  She  turned  the  telegram 
round  as  tenderly  as  though  Reginald's  own  fingers  had 
handled  it.  The  evidence  of  his  remembrance  touched  her 
deeply;  but  why  had  he  committed  the  uncalled-for  ex- 
travagance of  sending  her  money  by  cable  ?  And  why  had 
he  chosen  this  moment  of  all  others  for  doing  so  ?  What 
reason  had  he  for  supposing  that  the  family  was  in  such 
urgent  need  of  help  ?  If  he  had  fifty  pounds  to  spare,  why 
could  he  not  have  waited  to  send  them  by  the  mail  with  a 
letter  of  explanation  which  would  have  reached  her  five  or 
six  weeks  hence,  and  which  would  have  cost  so  much  less 
than  the  telegram  ? 

"  I  will  send  the  money  back  to  him,"  she  reflected  ;  "  he 
needs  it  more  than  we  do,  though  I  dare  say  he  thinks  we 
are  just  as  hard  up  as  we  can  be.  How  true  his  warnings 
were,  all  the  same !  A  few  weeks  ago  we  were  almost  with- 
out bread,  and  if  the  money  had  come  at  that  time,  I  should 
never  have  gone  to  the  Folies-Fantassin,  but  then  we  should 
have  been  without  the  two  hundred  pounds,  and  we  should 
never  have  known  Hubert.  And  yet  fifty  pounds  coming 
then  would  have  saved  us.  Only  instead  of  living  upon  our 
cousin's  bounty,  as  we  are  doing  now,  I  should  have  been 
obliged  to  look  for  work,  and  perhaps — who  knows  ? — it 
would  have  been  better  for  us  all  in  the  end." 

A  third  reverberation  of  the  electric  bell  broke  in  once 
more  vipon  her  musings.  And  yet  another  telegram  was 
placed  in  her  hands.  Tremblingly  she  signed  her  name  for 
the  third  time  in  a  third  book.  Some  special  providence 
seemed  to  keep  the  family  out  of  the  way,  as  these  succes- 
sive missives,  of  which  none  but  herself  must  know  the  im- 


326  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

port,  reached  her.  But  for  greater  safety  she  carried  the 
last-arrived  despatch  into  the  miniature  kitchen,  which  was 
regarded  as  her  own  especial  doniesne,  and  feigned  to  rattle 
the  saucepans  to  avert  suspicion  while  she  looked  at  the  con- 
tents. The  telegram  was  from  London,  and  was  sent  by  her 
brother.  It  contained  the  news  of  an  unlooked-for  and 
overwhelming  disaster : 

"  Assurance  Company  failed.  Expect  no  more  remit- 
tances.    Family  ruined.     Will  send  ten  pounds." 

Eila  read  these  fatal  words  to  the  end,  but  upon  the  first 
reading  she  only  half  grasped  their  significance.  That  they 
conveyed  tidings  of  a  disastrous  nature  was  clear  to  her  from 
the  fact  that  her  cheeks  and  lips  felt  so  unaccountably  cold, 
and  that  the  blue  and  white  tiles  that  lined  a  portion  of  the 
miniature  walls  seemed  to  grow  all  blurred  and  indistinct  in 
an  instant.  Upon  a  second  reading,  the  full  extent  of  the 
catastrophe  was  borne  in  upon  her,  descending  with  the  force 
of  a  well-aimed  blow.  She,  her  mother,  her  brothers  and 
sisters,  were  beggars.  Not  in  the  sense  of  standing  like  the 
blind  man  on  the  Boulevard  St.  Michel,  with  hand  out- 
stretched to  the  passers-by,  but  in  the  sense  of  being  actually 
dependent  upon  their  fellow-creatures  to  keep  them  alive. 
Small  as  their  income  had  been,  they  had  never  doubted  that 
it  was  certain — as  certain  as  the  rising  of  the  sun  or  the 
blowing  of  the  wind.  To  be  suddenly  and  unexpectedly  de- 
prived of  it  through  no  fault  of  their  own  at  one  fell  stroke, 
seemed  as  incomprehensible  and  inexplicable  as  it  was  cruel 
and  unjust.  The  money  their  father  had  paid  for  his  insur- 
ance had  not  been  dissipated  by  themselves.  It  must  still  be 
theirs,  no  matter  how  assurance  companies  might  mismanage 
their  affairs.  There  could  be  no  law  that  allowed  men  to 
steal  what  belonged  to  a  widow  and  her  children — all  they 
had  to  live  upon — and  to  turn  them  into  paupers  at  a  mo- 
ment's notice.  Eila  knew  that  misfortunes  did  occasionally 
overtake  people  through  no  fault  of  their  own.  She  had 
heard  of  whole  families  being  ruined  by  the  unexpected 
failiire  of  a  bank,  but  the  meaning  of  such  catastrophes  had 
never  been  quite  understood  by  her  before.  She  had  listened 
to  such  tales  with  something  of  the  incredulity  of  ignorance. 


A  NEW  CATASTROPHE.  327 

Could  it  be  possible  that  the  system  upon  which  money  mat- 
ters were  arranged  in  the  world  was  so  iniquitous  that  inno- 
cent people  might  be  robbed  by  those  who  had  charge  of 
their  money.  That  burglars  should  commit  robbery  was 
another  matter.  That,  at  least,  was  honest  robbing,  for  it 
allowed  people  to  take  their  precautions,  and  even  to  knock 
the  burglar  on  the  head,  or  to  hand  him  over  to  the  police 
when  he  was  caught.  But  to  steal  the  money  that  had  been 
given  you  to  take  care  of — the  money  that  a  poor  dead  man 
had  left  in  trust  for  his  wife  and  children  when  he  should 
be  no  longer  there  to  work  for  them  !  That  was  indeed  a 
cowardly,  cruel  and  dastardly  action.  Burning  tears,  that 
seemed  to  sear  her  eyelids  as  they  rose,  forced  their  way 
down  Eila's  cheeks.  Now  she  understood  the  meaning  of 
Reginald's  gift  of  money  and  telegram.  Pitifully,  gen- 
erously, indeed,  had  he  forestalled  the  news  of  the  disaster. 
He  could  hardly  have  had  time  to  hear  of  it  in  Hobart  before 
he  had  sent  his  poor  fifty  pounds  to  Paris.  "Well,  with  that 
and  the  napoleons  she  had  stored  away  after  her  Folies- 
Fantassin  exploit,  there  was  time  to  turn  round.  But  after- 
wards !  what  would  become  of  the  family  then  ?  What 
would  have  become  of  them,  indeed,  all  this  time  if  Hubert 
had  not  taken  them  under  his  protection  ?  In  the  midst  of 
her  tears  a  bitter  smile  crossed  Eila's  lips  as  she  pictured  the 
pauper  band  embarking  upon  their  Continental  tour.  But 
was  it  not  folly  to  embark  at  all  while  they  depended  for 
their  very  subsistence  upon  the  caprice  of  a  rich  relation, 
who  might  drop  them,  if  he  were  so  minded,  as  suddenly 
and  inexplicably  as  he  had  taken  them  up  ?  What  if  Hubert 
should  fall  down  dead  while  they  were  travelling,  and  before 
the  hotel  bill  was  paid  ?  Such  things  had  been  heard  of,  and 
should  she  not  see  to  it  that  proper  precautions  were  taken 
before  they  set  out  ?  Ought  she  not,  indeed,  to  inform  their 
cousin  instantly  of  the  catastrophe  that  had  befallen  the 
family,  and  to  make  him  understand  the  wild  absurdity  of 
their  travelling  about  in  luxurious  idleness  while  they  were 
literally  without  the  means  of  procuring  themselves  a  meal  ? 
One  thing,  at  least,  Eila  was  resolved  upon.  The  burden  of 
the  catastrophe,  and  the  new  and  terrible  responsibility  it 


328  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

laid  upon  her,  must  not  be  shared  with  the  others.  The  next 
remittance  would  not  be  due  for  three  months.  In  her  ca- 
pacity of  family  treasurer,  it  was  she  who  had  charge  of  the 
funds,  and  before  three  months  were  over,  Hubert  might 
propose  to  assist  the  family  permanently,  or  Mamy  might 
be  induced  to  accept  her  rich  suitor.  In  any  case,  she  felt 
determined  to  keep  all  knowledge  of  the  blow  from  her 
mother  and  sisters  until  the  news  could  be  communicated 
without  the  risk  of  occasioning  them  the  same  feeling  of 
helpless  desperation  and  utter  heart-sickness  as  she  herself 
had  experienced  on  reading  her  brother's  telegram.  And 
then,  Cinderella-like,  she  seated  herself  on  the  edge  of  the 
little  blue-tiled  stove,  and  half  closed  her  eyes  in  the  effort 
of  thinking  how  she  could  avert  the  consequences  of  the 
new  disaster.  It  was  borne  in  upon  her,  as  she  sat,  that  the 
power  to  avert  them  was  hers  if  she  had  the  will.  For  when 
virtue  and  talent  and  innocence  are  at  a  discount,  there  is 
always  a  market  for  beauty.  It  is  the  one  ware  of  all  others 
of  which  the  value  may  be  instantly  realized.  Nor  would 
she  have  to  look  far  for  a  bidder ;  the  Prince  of  Darkness, 
who  whispered  this  suggestion  in  her  ear,  conjured  up  a 
vision  to  enforce  it.  No  vision  of  a  casket  filled  with  jewels 
was  it,  like  that  which  the  fair  Marguerite  found  on  her 
path ;  nothing  but  five  separate  pictures  of  mother  and  Willie 
and  Dick  and  Mamy  and  Truca,  each  in  the  assured  enjoy- 
ment of  food  and  clothes  and  home,  and  all  that  they  wanted 
to  make  life  beautiful  and  pleasant. 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  CLOUDS  CONTINUE  TO  GATHER. 

It  seemed  to  be  Eila's  fate  now  to  have  to  decide  mo- 
mentous questions  by  her  own  unaided  judgment.  Having 
kept  the  family  in  ignorance  of  their  dire  poverty  upon  a 
former  occasion,  she  resolutely  carried  out  her  latest  con- 


THE  CLOUDS  CONTINUE  TO  GATHER.  329 

ceived  project  of  liidiiig  from  them  the  new  stroke  of  des- 
tiny that  had  descended  upon  them. 

They  were  ruined,  but  to  all  outward  appearance  their 
position  was  as  secure,  and  even  as  luxurious  as  before. 
Why  should  she  drive  them  out  of  their  fools'  paradise  as 
long  as  she  could  help  to  maintain  them  in  it  ?  She  wrote 
to  her  brother  in  London,  telling  him  his  ten  pounds  were 
not  needed,  and  imploring  him  to  keep  the  tidings  of  the 
catastrophe  a  secret,  until  fuller  details  should  be  forth- 
coming, promising  at  the  same  time  that  she  would  herself 
break  the  news  to  her  mother  when  she  might  do  so  with 
safety.  Her  own  interpretation  of  this  phrase  meant  when 
she  should  have  laid  the  matter  before  her  cousin  and  ascer- 
tained how  far  he  intended  to  help  them.  If  Hubert  prom- 
ised permanent  pecuniary  assistance,  she  might  fearlessly 
impart  the  news  of  the  disaster  to  the  other  members  of  the 
family — albeit  it  was  a  cruel  thing  for  them  to  be  robbed  of 
their  little  all  (for  nothing  could  shake  Eila's  conviction 
that  the  directors  of  the  insurance  company  were  actual 
robbers) ;  still,  the  knowledge  that  they  would  not  be  left 
destitute  would  give  them  courage.  And,  meanwhile,  would 
it  not  be  an  act  of  unnecessary  and  wanton  cruelty  to  cast 
so  dismal  a  shadow  over  their  preparations  for  the  coming 
journey,  since  every  day  of  happiness  was,  after  all,  a  day 
to  the  good  in  the  dreary  comedy  of  life  ?  While  reasoning 
thus,  Eila  delayed,  nevertheless,  to  carry  out  her  plan  of 
taking  Hubert  into  her  confidence.  The  unaccountable 
misgiving  he  had  inspired  in  her  kept  her  silent  in  spite  of 
herself.  Yet  every  day  she  was  aware  that  the  necessity 
for  speaking  was  growing  more  urgent.  Before  long  the 
family  would  be  in  the  same  plight  as  when  she  had  res- 
cued them  by  exhibiting  herself  at  the  Folies-Fantassin — 
an  episode  of  which  none  but  Hubert  had  any  knowledge. 
She  had  decided  upon  keeping  Reginald's  money  after  send- 
ing him  a  letter  which  had  both  touched  and  mortified  him. 
The  outpouring  of  gratitude  that  formed  its  principal  theme 
was  pitiful  in  its  heart-felt  sincerity,  but  this  was  not  what 
the  donor  wanted.  With  a  little  more  understanding  of 
his  sentiment  for  her,  prompted  by  ever  so  little  of  a  corre- 


330  NOT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

spending  sentiment  on  her  own  side,  she  must  have  under- 
stood that  there  could  be  no  question  of  gratitude  from  her 
to  him. 

She  devoted  her  energies  now  to  eking  out  the  money  as 
carefully  as  possible,  and  thanks  to  Hubert's  practice  of  in- 
viting the  family  to  dine  almost  daily  at  a  restaurant,  Regi- 
nald's donation  promised  to  hold  out  for  a  considerable 
time.  Moreover,  there  was  still  her  reserve  fund  from  the 
two  hundred  pounds  to  fall  back  upon,  and  neither  her 
mother  nor  sisters  had  entirely  spent  their  separate  share  of 
the  gain. 

The  time  of  the  departure  upon  the  tour  of  pleasure  was 
fixed  for  the  end  of  January.  It  was  arranged  that  the 
party  should  travel  to  Brussels ;  thence  to  Cologne,  Berlin, 
Prague,  Dresden,  Vienna  and  Buda-Pesth.  It  was  to  be  en- 
tirely Hubert's  treat ;  and  upon  the  strength  of  the  ruby,  to 
which  no  allusion  had  been  made  openly,  but  which  Mrs. 
Clare  flourished  before  her  children's  imagination  when- 
ever she  was  alone  v.'ith  them,  they  were  to  be  accompanied 
by  a  courier,  who  would  look  after  their  luggage,  pilot  them 
to  the  best  hotels,  and  perch  himself  upon  the  box  of  their 
carriage  when  they  were  out  sight-seeing.  Here  was  a  con- 
trast to  their  erstwhile  experience  in  the  London  docks. 
With  so  brilliant  a  prospect  in  view,  it  seemed  almost  an 
impertinence  to  suggest  that  they  were  literally  penniless ; 
and  though  Eila  carried  the  dreary  knowledge  of  the  truth 
constantly  about  with  her,  there  were  yet  times  when  she 
could  hardly  bring  herself  to  believe  that  it  really  was  the 
truth.  Never  before  had  the  concierges  heaped  such  cour- 
tesies upon  them.  One  or  other  of  the  evil-looking  pair 
would  run  out  of  their  den  whenever  a  parcel  for  the 
quatrieme  was  delivered  below,  and  carry  it  up  to  ces 
dames  in  person.  The  girls  were  perfectly  aware  that  it 
was  the  reflected  lustre  of  their  cousin's  gold  which  pro- 
cured them  these  attentions.  Nevertheless,  they  could  not 
help  feeling  that  they  were  agreeable.  For  one  thing,  it 
was  so  much  easier  to  follow  one's  natural  prompting  to 
smile  and  nod  when  one  was  bowed  to,  instead  of  being 
scowled  at ;  and  for  another,  it  was  nice  to  make  sure  of 


THE  CLOUDS  CONTINUE  TO  GATHER.  331 

having  one's  parcels  and  letters  brought  up  the  moment 
they  arrived. 

Eila  had,  however,  more  than  one  burden  to  bear  in 
secret  at  this  time.  After  enduring  great  uneasiness  on  ac- 
count of  Dick's  frequent  absences,  she  had  been  relieved  to 
find  that  he  had  developed  a  sudden  sympathy  for  Hubert, 
and  that  he  was  constantly  to  be  found  in  the  society  of  the 
latter.  The  oddly-contrasted  pair,  looking  like  the  magician 
and  the  prince  out  of  a  tale  in  the  "  Arabian  Nights,"  seemed 
to  have  special  haunts  of  their  own.  Dick  was  also  em- 
ployed by  his  cousin  in  his  room  at  the  Louvre  to  copy  his 
business  letters  and  sort  his  papers  for  him.  Even  this 
small  temporary  occu]3ation  was  better  than  nothing,  and 
Eila  had  ceased  to  let  the  thought  of  her  brother's  aimless 
existence  weigh  upon  her,  when  an  event  occurred  Avhich 
IJroved  that  her  first  forebodings  had  been  only  too  well 
founded.  It  came  about  in  this  wise,  upon  a  Sunday  even- 
ing. 

Mamy  had  been  reading  "  Zanoni  "  to  her  mother  all  the 
afternoon  by  the  side  of  the  stove,  for  the  snow  was  whirling 
down  in  fine-drawn  flakes,  and  at  four  o'clock  the  prosj)ect 
out  of  doors  was  so  black  through  the  gray-white  moving 
screen,  that  the  blinds  had  been  drawn  and  the  family  had 
clustered  round  the  red-hot  centre  of  warnath.  It  was  taken 
for  granted  that  Hubert  would  come  with  a  carriage  before 
seven  o'clock  to  take  them  to  a  restaurant.  The  squeezing 
in  of  six  people  into  the  large  closed  landau  that  he  would 
have  waiting  for  them  was  part  of  the  pleasure  of  the  expe- 
dition, for  the  family  seemed  to  be  all  of  similar  eel-like 
proportions,  capable  of  curling  into  a  very  small  space  when 
occasion  required.  There  were  evenings  when  no  landau 
came.  Only  a  boy  from  the  restaurant,  with  a  white  paper 
cap  on  his  head,  would  appear  Avith  a  column  of  most  appe- 
tizing dishes,  which  were  immediately  set  out  for  consump- 
tion upon  the  table  from  the  ante-chamber  that  had  been 
previously  dragged  into  the  reception-room  for  the  sake  of 
the  warmth.  On  this  particular  Sunday  evening,  however, 
Hubert  failed  to  make  his  appearance.  More  inexplicable 
still,  Dick  did  not  return,  and  a  dismal  circumstance  in  con- 
22 


332  NOT   COUNTING   THE   COST. 

nection  with  these  two  perplexing  facts  was  that  no  boy  in 
a  pai^er  cap  presented  liimself  from  the  restaurant.  The 
family  (though  their  interest  in  "Zanoni"  had  begun  to 
wane  about  six)  kept  up  heart  until  seven.  But  as  their 
hunger  increased,  their  uneasiness  increased  with  it,  and 
when  half -past  seven  had  struck,  the  faces  of  the  group  were 
eloquently  long.  Eila  was  suffering  a  tenfold  strain  of 
anxiety.  "  What  a  thin  volcano  crust  we  are  living  on  ! " 
she  thought ;  "  we  have  no  claim  on  our  cousin,  and  no  ab- 
solute warrant  for  trusting  him.  If  he  chooses  to  drop  us 
from  one  day  to  another,  we  can  have  nothing  to  say.  Per- 
haps his  forgetting  us  to-night  is  a  sign  that  he  has  had 
enough  of  us.  I  must  speak  to-morrow,  at  all  costs ;  but, 
oh,  what  a  relief  it  would  be  if  we  had  learned  to  depend 
upon  ourselves !  The  others  are  not  to  blame  as  I  am,  for 
they  do  not  know  that  we  are  standing  on  the  brink  of  beg- 
gary." 

Her  anxiety  grew  keener  as  the  hours  dragged  on. 
Where  was  Hubert  ?  Where  was  Dick  ?  Were  they  to- 
gether ?  and  if  so,  how  could  it  be  possible  that  they 
should  have  left  tlie  family,  hungry  and  forlorn,  to  await 
their  coming  ?  Some  fatal  accident  must  have  happened  ; 
or  was  it,  perhaps,  that  one  had  missed  the  other  ?  Cer- 
tainly no  definite  arrangement  had  been  made;  but 
it  was  tacitly  understood  that  both  of  them — Dick,  in  any 
case — should  appear  before  dinner  could  be  thought  of. 
Seven  o'clock  laboured  slowly  on  to  eight,  and  eight  to 
nine,  and  the  consternation  of  the  family  reached  a  point 
at  which  it  became  manifest  that  something  must  be  done. 
Even  their  hunger  was  almost  forgotten  in  their  uneasiness. 
Eila  insisted,  when  nine  o'clock  struck,  that  they  should 
have  some  toast  and  tea,  after  which  she  proposed  to  make 
an  expedition  to  the  Hotel  du  Louvre  through  the  whirling 
snow  to  make  inquiries.  Mamy  declared  that  she  would 
accompany  her  sister;  and  the  two  girls  crept  down  the 
stairs  in  their  old  board-ship  ulsters,  feeling  almost  guilty 
as  they  passed  the  concierge's  den,  shrinking  from  the 
glances  of  insolent  curiosity  with  which  their  exit  was  fol- 
lowed.    They  took  refuge,  shivering,  in  the  first  tram  that 


THE  CLOUDS  CONTINUE  TO  GATHER.  333 

passed  silently  down  the  boulevard  through  the  snow,  but 
had  to  wait  a  long  time  in  the  cold  outsido  the  office  for  the 
advent  of  their  second  omnibus.  They  exchanged  but  a  few 
words  on  their  way.  Both  alike  were  feeling  the  terrific 
contrast  between  their  late  mode  of  life  and  the  actual  ex- 
perience. To  Eila  it  seemed  as  though  the  existence  they 
had  led  during  the  last  few  weeks  had  been  nothing  but  a 
brilliant  dream,  and  that  this  forlorn  trudge  through  the 
winter  snow  was  a  coming  back  to  the  bitter  reality.  And 
both,  Mamy  more  especially,  were  devoured  by  anxiety  on 
Dick's  behalf.  It  was  true  that  he  had  gone  his  own  way 
much  of  late,  but  he  could  not  have  ceased  to  care  for  his 
family  so  entirely  as  to  i^ut  them  through  this  cruel  ordeal 
of  his  own  free  will.  They  reached  the  hotel  at  last,  and 
here  a  bitter  disappointment  awaited  them.  Hubert  was  out, 
and  no  one  could  give  them  the  least  information  as  to 
where  he  had  gone,  or  with  whom.  Their  mortification  was 
so  great  that  Mamy  declared  afterwards  she  understood  how 
tyrants  had  been  incited  to  order  the  bearers  of  evil  tidings 
to  be  scourged.  Her  indignation  would  have  been  less  had 
there  been  the  least  appearance  of  interest  or  sympathy  ex- 
pressed in  the  face  of  the  man  behind  the  counter  who  gave 
them  the  unwelcome  information.  But  after  communicating 
with  a  voice  in  the  upper  regions  through  a  rubber  tube, 
while  they  stood  by  waiting  with  sinking  hearts,  the  man 
said,  in  tones  of  completest  indifference,  "Monsieur  de 
Merle  est  sorti."  Fuller  details  it  was  impossible  to  obtain. 
To  return  with  such  a  message  was  out  of  the  question. 
Eila  boldly  suggested  that  they  should  go  and  knock  at 
their  cousin's  door,  "And  if  he  is  not  there,  we  will  sit 
down  and  wait  for  him,  for  they  can't  turn  us  out,"  she 
said,  with  determination.  But  it  was  no  easy  matter  to  find 
Hubert's  door  in  the  labyrinth  of  rooms  spread  over  all  the 
stories,  and  when  they  succeeded  at  last,  it  was  only  to  find 
that  their  labour  was  in  vain.  Tlie  door  was  locked.  There 
was  no  response  from  within,  and  they  were  humiliated  by 
the  tones  in  which  a  chambermaid  asked  them  sharply, 
"  Qui  cherchez-vous,  mesdemoiselles  ?  Le  monsieur  du  dix- 
sept  est  sorti."    Downstairs  they  went  again,  and,  after  a 


334  NOT   COUNTING  THE   COST. 

hurried  consultation  at  the  foot,  decided  to  take  it  by  turns 
to  watch  in  the  electric-lighted  courtyard,  while  the  one 
who  was  not  on  duty  was  having  a  "  warm  "  in  the  reading- 
room.  In  all  their  future  lives,  neither  Eila  nor  Mamy 
would  forget  the  dreariness  of  their  sensations  that  evening. 
The  carriages  that  rattled  in  and  out  of  the  yard  with  ladies 
in  rich  furs  or  brilliant  opera-cloaks,  and  the  gentlemen  in 
fur-lined  coats  with  crush  hats  and  opera-glasses ;  the  aroma 
of  mingled  sauces,  cigars,  and  j)erfumes  ;  the  brilliant  light ; 
the  constant  movement  to  and  fro ;  the  tumult  of  voices 
and  gay  bustle — all  gave  the  impression  of  a  world  devised 
for  pleasure.  Mamy  comi3ared  her  present  impression  of 
the  Louvre  to  her  first  acquaintance  with  it  upon  that  joy- 
ous evening  when  she  had  dined  at  table  cVhote  for  the  first 
time ;  and  when  it  was  her  turn  to  wait  in  the  lighted  court- 
yard, the  consciousness  of  the  desolation  of  her  present  situ- 
ation was  intensified  by  the  contrast  between  then  and  now. 
She  felt  almost  like  an  intruder  as  she  walked  tlirough  the 
courtyard  in  her  threadbare  ulster  and  shabby  sailor  hat,  and, 
fearful  of  remaining  there,  went  outside,  and  took  her  stand 
before  a  window  in  the  Rue  de  Rivoli,  where  she  pretended 
to  look  at  the  photographs.  As  she  gazed  disconsolately 
into  the  brilliant  window,  with  sensations  akin  to  those  of 
the  Peri  excluded  from  Paradise,  she  became  suddenly 
aware  of  a  man's  figure  that  had  come  to  a  halt  by  her  side 
for  the  purpose  of  looking,  not  at  the  photographs,  but  at 
herself.  She  was  magnetically  conscious  of  this  fact,  and 
magnetically  impelled  to  turn  her  face  towards  the  person 
who  regarded  her,  with  a  look  of  half-terrified,  half-indig- 
nant remonstrance  in  her  blue  eyes.  But  the  expression 
died  away  instantly.  The  face  that  was  looking  at  her  was 
a  face  Mamy  knew ;  though  she  had  seen  it  but  once  in  her 
life,  and  for  one  short  moment  only,  it  had  imprinted  itself 
on  her  imagination  with  the  force  of  an  indelible  impres- 
sion. The  brilliant  scene  at  the  Hotel  du  Louvre  flashed 
back  upon  her  memory  like  a  landscape  seen  under  the  play 
of  summer  lightning.  It  was  there  against  the  background 
of  the  glowing  mythological  paintings,  in  the  midst  of  the 
warmth  and  splendour  within,  that  she  had  seen  the  face 


THE  CLOUDS  CONTINUE   TO   GATHER.  335 

before.  Mamy's  eyes  were  not  only  blue,  they  were  tell-tale 
eyes  as  well.  The  fact  that  she  recognised  this  stranger  by 
her  side  was  so  instantly  and  naively  revealed  in  them,  and 
the  half-startled  "  Oh  ! "  which  accompanied  the  astonishing 
discovery  was  so  thoroughly  artless  and  spontaneous,  that 
the  object  of  her  recognition  might  well  be  excused  for  ad- 
vancing a  step  nearer.  He,  too,  remembered  the  face  of  the 
"  seraph  out  for  a  holiday,"  as  Mamy  had  appeared  to  him 
at  the  memorable  Louvre  dinner,  and  was  sliocked  and  per- 
plexed to  find  her  standing,  apparently  alone  and  shabbily 
attired,  between  ten  and  eleven  on  a  winter's  night,  on  the 
pavement  of  the  Rue  de  Rivoli.  But  under  whatever  cir- 
cumstances she  might  be  standing  there,  the  unprotected- 
ness  of  her  position  seemed  to  furnish  an  excuse  for  offering 
his  services,  if  only  upon  the  plea  of  her  being  English — 
nay,  Australian  it  might  be — like  himself.  Another  point 
to  be  considered :  There  was  nothing  of  what  Mr.  Wilton 
would  himself  have  characterized  as  "stand  off  "  in  the  atti- 
tude of  this  pretty  little  girl,  whose  "  laugh  full  of  mirth 
without  any  control "  had  attracted  his  attention  in  the  first 
instance.  He  was  therefore  dotibly  inclined  to  address  her, 
the  only  drawback  being  the  consideration  that,  in  our  con- 
ventional world,  the  fact  that  a  young  man  is  attracted  by  a 
young  woman  whom  he  does  not  know  from  Adam — or 
from  Eve — is  not  considered  reason  sufficient  for  speaking 
to  her. 

"Bother  it  all!"  Jack  reflected;  "if  I  had  met  her  in 
Collins  Street,  I  would  soon  have  found  a  way  of  being  in- 
troduced to  her  in  the  orthodox  style.  But  there's  no  one  to 
do  it  here,  and  if  I  let  this  opportunity  escape,  I  may  never 
set  eyes  on  her  again.  Besides,  if  she  can  go  abroad  by 
herself  in  Paris  at  this  time  of  night,  she's  not  the  sort  to 
take  offence  at  nothing,  so  here  goes  !  " 

And  with  "  here  goes  "  Jack  took  off  his  hat  and  replaced 
it  on  his  head,  after  a  friendly  bow  of  recognition.  Mamy's 
answering  salute  was  timid,  but  not  conclusive.  Jack  ad- 
vanced closer,  and  said  with  assurance  : 

"  I  think  I  have  had  the  iileasure  of  meeting  you  before ; 
you  were  dining  with  some  friends  of  mine  at  the  Louvre." 


336  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

The  "  friends  of  mine  "  was  a  sudden  inspiration  of  the 
moment,  but  Jack  tranquillized  his  conscience  by  telling- 
himself  that  he  knew  they  were  Australians. 

"  I  remember,"  murmured  Mamy,  casting  down  her  eyes. 

"  Do  you  ? "  said  Jack  heartily ;  "  I'm  awfully  glad  to 
hear  it:  I  know /wasn't  likely  to  forget."  And  then  he 
paused,  and  Mamy  made  a  little  movement  as  though  to 
take  her  leave,  while  the  young  man  continued  eagerly : 
"Won't  you  let  me  see  you  on  your  way  home,  if  you're 
alone  ?  Paris  isn't  a  nice  place  for  a — a — young  lady  to  be 
going  about  in  by  herself  at  night." 

"  I'm  not  alone,"  said  Mamy  promptly ;  "  I'm  with  my 
sister.  She's  waiting  for  me  at  the  Hotel  du  Louvre.  We 
came  to  see  a  relation  of  ours  who's  stopping  there,  but  he 
was  out,  and — and — I  was  tired  of  waiting.  But  I  must  go 
back  to  my  sister  now." 

"  It's  not  the  last  time  of  our  meeting,  though,  I  hope," 
said  Jack,  following  her.  "  I'm  stopping  at  the  Louvre,  too ; 
I  only  arrived  from  London  to-night.  What  is  your  friend's 
name  ?     Perhaps  I  might  be  able  to  help  you  to  find  him." 

"  Oh,  I  wish  you  could  ! "  said  Mamy  plaintively— she 
was  walking  demurely  back  under  the  archway  that  led 
into  the  courtyard,  and  Jack  was  walking  by  her  side — "  but 
no,  you  needn't  trouble  ;  "  her  voice  broke  suddenly  into  an 
eager  cry :  "  he  is  there,  and  my  sister  has  seen  him ;  she 
is  coming  down  the  steps  to  meet  him.  Oh !  I  am  so 
glad " 

Her  tones  were  quavering.  Jack  followed  the  direction 
of  her  eyes  in  bewilderment. 

"  Where  is  he  ? "  he  asked  ;  "  I  don't  see  him ; "  but  be- 
fore he  had  finished  speaking  his  companion  had  escaped 
from  him,  and  was  running  eagerly  in  the  direction  of  a 
misshapen  figure  wra^oped  in  a  Rubens  cloak,  whom  the 
young  man  recognised  as  his  friend  and  boss,  Hubert  de 
Merle.  The  discovery  was  one  that  in  Mr.  Wilton's  own 
phraseology  "  licked  creation." 

So  the  little  seraph  waif  claimed  Hubert  de  Merle  as  a 
relative.  But,  then,  why  had  he  ignored  her  presence  when 
he  saw  her  at  the  Louvre,  and  since  when  had  he  thought 


THE  CLOUDS  CONTINUE  TO  GATHER.  337 

fit  to  make  the  discovery  that  he  was  of  her  kith  and  kin  ? 
An  instant  later,  Jack's  astonishment  was  inci^eased  a  hun- 
dredfold, for  in  drawing  nearer  to  the  group  at  the  foot  of 
the  Louvre  steps  he  recognised  in  the  seraph's  sister,  en- 
gaged in  earnest  conversation  with  Hubert  himself,  the 
identical  Bacchante  of  the  Folies-Fantassin.  The  coinci- 
dence seemed  almost  too  wonderful  to  be  believed.  Jack 
looked  harder  at  the  Bacchante,  telling  himself  that  he 
might  be  mistaken.  But  no ;  even  to  the  hat  and  ulster, 
which  she  had  substituted  for  her  leopard's  skin  tlie  first 
evening  he  had  seen  her,  he  could  have  sworn  to  her 
identity.  She  was  the  same  young  woman  who  had  driveii 
away  from  the  door  of  tlie  theatre  with  Hubert  de  Merle  in 
a  cab.  But  was  she  indeed  the  sister  of  the  fair  little  girl 
with  the  seraph  head,  whom  Jack  had  perceived  at  table 
d^hote  with  a  party  of  rich  and  reputable  Australians,  or 
had  Hubert  found  means  of  coining  family  relationships 
with  and  amongst  all  the  pretty  young  women  he  encoun- 
tered ? 

Thoroughly  mystified,  the  young  man  continued  to  hang 
about  the  neighbourhood  of  the  talking  trio,  unwilling  to 
go  away  lest  he  should  lose  sight  of  the  emancipated  seraph, 
yet  afraid  to  intrude  upon  what  appeared  like  an  exchange 
of  family  confidences.  Hubert  j)ut  an  end  to  his  uncertainty 
by  beckoning  him  to  come  nearer,  and  introducing  him  to 
the  two  girls. 

"  My  friend,  Mr.  Wilton,"  he  said,  directing  a  searching 
look  at  Eila,  who  was  turning  from  white  to  red  as  Jack 
approached  ;  "  Jack,"  addressing  himself  to  the  latter,  "  I 
don't  think  I  told  you  of  my  cousins  in  Paris,  Mrs.  Clare 
and  her  family.  I  only  found  out  they  were  here  the  other 
day.  These  are  her  two  daugliters — Mrs.  Frost  and  Miss 
Clare." 

Jack  bowed  with  exaggerated  deference,  as  though  to 
ask  forgiveness  for  his  former  unofficial  relations  with  the 
ladies  in  question.  The  appealing  air  with  which  Eila  re- 
sponded to  his  salutation  did  not  escape  his  notice.  That 
the  recognition  was  mutual  was  beyond  a  doubt.  Mamy 
kept  her  countenance   better.      Both  girls  appeared  to  be 


338  NOT  COUNTING   THE   COST. 

under  the  imiDression  of  some  piece  of  disquieting-  news 
communicated  by  Hubert,  for  their  eyes  were  shining  and 
dilated,  and  Maniy's  face  was  working  in  the  effort  to  keep 
back  her  tears. 

"  What  can  we  do  ? "  she  repeated  with  trembling  em- 
phasis.    "  Oh,  Dick  !  Dick  !  " 

The  cry  was  like  the  bui^sting  forth  of  a  pent-up  terror. 
Hubert  turned  towards  her  quickly.  He  spoke  sharply  and 
decidedly. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  be  frightened  about,"  he  said ; 
"your  brother  prefers  to  amuse  himself  in  his  own  way, 
that  is  all." 

"Oh  no,  he  doesn't,"  sobbed  Mamy,  protesting.  "You 
say  he  left  you  at  four,  and  it  was  arranged  that  he  should 
go  back  to  the  hotel  for  you  before  you  came  to  us.  If 
something  had  not  happened,  he  would  never  have  dreamed 
of  breaking  his  engagement — would  he,  Eila  ? "  and  she 
turned  her  despairing  eyes  towards  her  sister. 

"  I  shouldn't  have  thought  so,"  said  Eila  hesitatingly ; 
"but " 

She  stopped  short,  uncertain. 

"  And  you  wouldn't  dare  to  think  it,"  interrupted  Mamy 
defiantly.  "He  miglit  be  a  little  late  after  dinner  some- 
times. He  had  night  effects  to  study — he  told  me  so ;  but 
he  would  never,  never  have  been  late  on  purpose  when 
mother  and  all  of  us  were  waiting  to  go  to  dinner." 

"  Did  you  reassure  motlier  about  him,  at  least  ? "  Eila 
asked  of  Hubert,  addressing  herself  timidly  to  her  cousin, 
while  Mamy,  who  had  broken  down  completely  at  the  end 
of  her  protest,  pressed  her  handkerchief  against  her  face  and 
wept  recklessly  into  it,  oblivious  of  her  surroundings. 

Eila  was  calmer  than  her  sister.  Though  she  loathed 
herself  for  the  feeling,  her  relief  at  Hubert's  appearance, 
bringing  the  evidence  that  he  had  neither  fallen  down  dead 
nor  left  the  family  to  its  fate,  had  been  strong  enough  to 
overcome  her  anxiety  on  her  brother's  behalf.  Mamy  would 
have  sacrificed  all  she  had  in  the  world,  and  thrown  Hubert 
and  his  fortune  into  the  balance — she  would  have  accepted 

-to  have  Dick  restored  safe 


THE   CLOUDS   CONTINUE  TO   GATHER.  339 

and  sound  to  her  arms.  But  Mamy  did  not  know  what  Eila 
knew.  She  had  not  the  same  motives  for  believing  that  the 
fate — nay,  the  very  lives — of  mother,  brother,  and  sisters, 
rested  vipon  her  shoulders,  and  that  she,  and  she  alone,  was 
responsible,  not  for  their  well-being  only,  but  for  their  very 
means  of  sustenance.  For  four  long  hours  this  evening 
young  Mrs.  Frost  had  been  undergoing  an  ordeal  of  which 
none  but  herself  could  know  the  secret  cause  and  mean- 
ing. "  I  could  have  kejjt  Hubert,"  she  repeated  to  herself 
over  and  over  again ;  "  it  was  in  my  power  to  keep  him, 
and  he  wanted  me  to  use  the  power.  If  he  has  gone  away 
for  good  and  left  us  to  our  fate,  it  is  nobody's  fault  but  miixe. 
Why  have  I  hesitated  so  long — /,  who  am  always  preaching 
to  Mamy  about  the  duty  of  sacrificing  herself  for  her  family, 
and  wanting  to  force  her  to  marry  a  man  she  cannot  love, 
for  their  sakes  ?  If  I  condescend  to  use  a  few  woman's  wiles, 
I  can  make  Hubert  do  anytliing  I  please.  But  I  have 
thought  of  myself  instead  of  the  others,  and  now  I  am  being 
punished  for  it." 

The  longer  the  waiting  had  lasted,  the  more  bitter  her 
self-reproaches  had  grown,  until,  in  wandering  from  the 
warmth  of  the  reading-room  into  the  freezing  atmosphere 
without  to  look  after  Mamy,  she  had  caught  sight  of  the  dis- 
torted outline  tlu'own  by  Hubert's  shadow  as  he  crossed  the 
courtyard,  and  had  run  to  meet  him  with  such  unfeigned  joy 
in  her  manner  that  his  dark  face  had  been  momentarily 
transfigured.  Under  the  eyes  of  all  who  might  happen  to  be 
present,  she  had  flung  down  the  steps,  crying  out,  "  Oh,  Hu- 
bert, are  you  there  at  last  ? "  She  all  but  threw  herself  into 
his  arms.  Even  upon  the  supposition  that  he  was  being 
fooled,  such  fooling  was  sweet  to  a  man  who  possessed  a 
voluptuary's  soul  imprisoned  in  a  deformed  body.  Hubert, 
however,  had  hardly  had  time  to  respond  to  his  beautiful 
cousin's  efi^usions,  for  Mamy  had  run  forward  with  frantic 
inquiries  for  Dick,  and  he  had  been  obliged  to  give  an  ex- 
planation of  his  own  proceedings.  He  had  been  to  the 
Boulevard  de  I'Observatoire,  he  said,  where  Mrs.  Clare  and 
Truca  were  waiting  in  great  uneasiness.  He  had  told  them 
he  had  the  best  of  reasons  for  believing  that  Dick  was  all  right. 


340  N^OT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

"  I  suppose  it  was  because  you  were  waiting  for  Dick  that 
you  did  not  come  to  us  ? "  Eila  interrupted,  fixing  her  dark 
eyes  upon  him  with  caressing  anxiety.  He  had  never  seen 
this  particular  expression  in  them  before. 

"  Yes,  I  was  waiting  for  your  brother,"  Hubert  said,  look- 
ing at  her  intently.  Was  it  possible  that  she  had  really  been 
anxious  about  himf  "I  was  going  to  send  a  message  by 
him  that  you  were  on  no  account  to  wait  for  me  if  I  did  not 
turn  up  with  my  friend  here  by  eight  o'clock." 

"It  was  past  eight  before  we  got  into  the  station,"  in- 
terposed Jack ;  he  was  feeling  much  discomposed  at  the 
sight  of  the  fair  little  girl's  tears.  "  And  you've  lost  a  broth- 
er, it  seems,"  he  added,  turning  sympathetically  to  Eila.  "  Is 
he  qu^ite  a  little  chap  ? " 

"  N-no ;  he's  g-grown  up,"  said  Mamy,  sobbing. 

"  Oh,  then  he's  bound  to  be  all  right,"  said  Jack,  smiling. 
"  I  sui^pose  it's  not  the  first  time  he's  been  late  for  dinner, 
is  it  ?  " 

Treated  in  this  way,  Dick's  disappearance  seemed  a  little 
less  tragic  than  the  sisters  had  supposed,  though  Eila  replied 
with  a  grave  sadness : 

"  But  he  promised  to  be  back  by  seven.  He  might  have 
been  sure  we  should  not  have  gone  to  the  restaurant  with- 
out him." 

"  You're  bound  to  find  him  when  you  get  home,"  said 
Jack,  with  assurance.  "  But  if  you  shouldn't,  we'll  soon  be 
on  his  track,  take  my  word  for  it.  I  hope  you'll  let  me 
know,  for  I  want  to  be  one  of  the  search-party ;  and  I 
promise  you  we'll  bring  him  back  to  you  all  right.  I  might 
as  well  be  making  myself  useful  as  loafing  about  the  streets, 
for  I've  nothing  to  do  in  Paris  but  amuse  myself.  I  mean," 
he  exjjlained,  "that  I've  got  all  my  time  on  my  hands." 

"But  we  don't  know  where  to  look,"  wailed  Mamy. 
"  We  can't  think  of  any  place  Dick  could  have  stopped  at 
between  here  and  home." 

"  Oh,  you  mustn't  suppose  your  brother  tells  you  the 
names  of  all  his  acquaintances.  Miss  Clare,"  observed  Jack 
demurely.  "  Hadn't  you  better  let  me  call  a  cab  for  you 
now  ?    And  I'll  follow  you  to  your  place  in  another.    Then, 


THE  CLOUDS  CONTINUE  TO   GATHER.  341 

if  your  brother  hasn't  turned  up,  you  can  just  let  me  know, 
and  we'll  get  the  police  to  help  us  without  loss  of  time." 

Mamy  turned  pale  at  the  mention  of  the  police,  and 
Hubert  silently  signed  to  Eila  to  follow  him. 

"  Wait  for  us  a  moment,"  he  said  to  Mamy,  who  was  pre- 
paring to  come  as  well ;  "  I  have  a  word  to  say  to  your 
sister." 

"I  will  take  care  of  Miss  Clare,"  said  Jack  promjitly,  and 
Mamy  was  fain  to  remain  behind.  Eila  meauAvhile  was  fol- 
lowing her  cousin  with  trembling  apprehension.  Hubert 
preceded  her  in  grim  silence  to  the  reading-room,  making 
no  response  to  her  breathless  inquiries  until  he  had  led  her 
to  a  comparatively  secluded  corner,  where  he  obliged  her  to 
seat  herself  upon  an  unoccupied  divan,  drawing  forward  a 
chair  for  himself  opposite  to  her. 

The  formality  of  these  preparations  increased  Eila's 
alarm. 

"  There  is  something  you  have  not  told  me,"  she  cried, 
feeling  sick  Avith  terror.  "  You  know  what  has  happened 
to  Dick,  and  you  won't  tell  me." 

Hubert's  dark,  enigmatic  face  did  not  convey  either 
affirmation  or  negation. 

"Tell  me,"  she  cried  imploringly,  laying  her  hand  on 
his  arm ;  "  what  reason  can  you  have  for  torturing  me, 
Hubert  ? " 

"I  don't  want  to  toi'ture  you,"  he  said  in  embarrassed 
tones ;  "  that  is  just  the  difficulty :  I  don't  know  how  to 
avoid  it." 

"  Is  it  such  bad  news  ? "  she  whispered,  and  her  face 
grew  livid.     "  Is  Dick  dead  ? " 

"Dead  ?     No;  very  much  the  contrary,  I  fancy." 

The  almost  scornful  tone  of  the  reply  brought  the  colour 
back  to  her  cheek  with  a  rush.  "  Thank  God  (if  there  was 
a  God)  for  that."  But  why  did  Hubert  adopt  so  heartless 
an  attitude  ?  What  was  there  to  mock  at  in  his  sister's 
tears  ? 

"  Is  he  hurt,  then  ?  " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of.     Not  bodily,  at  least " 

"  Not  bodily,"   she   sighed    impatiently.     "  Oh,    Hubert, 


342  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

what  satisfaction  can  it  be  to  torment  me  when  I  am  in 
such  awful  anxiety  ?  Something  has  happened,  and  it  con- 
cerns Dick,  and  you  won't  tell  me  what  it  is." 

"  Because  I'm  sure  of  nothing-  myself,  and  I  don't  know 
how  you  will  take  the  news,  only  I  have  a  strong-  suspicion 
that  Master  Dick  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  a  thief." 

"  A  what  ? "  she  repeated,  bewildered. 

"A  thief!"  He  reiterated  the  word  harshly.  "It  is  a 
cm-ious  coincidence  that  a  roll  of  napoleons  I  ijut  by  in 
your  brother's  presence  this  morning-  should  have  disap- 
peared this  afternoon,  and  that  he  himself  is  nowhere  to  be 
found." 

A  silence  as  of  death  followed  this  announcement.  Rais- 
ing- his  eyes,  Hubert  saw  that  liis  beautiful  cousin's  face  was 
suddenly  transformed.  It  was  no  longer  white  as  when  she 
had  fainted  at  the  Folies-Fantassin.  A  gray  horror  had 
overspread  it,  making  it  as  leaden  in  hue  as  the  face  of  a 
two  days'  corpse ;  and  all  living  warmth  seemed  to  have 
fled  from  her  cheeks.  Doubtless  the  cold  she  had  endured 
while  waiting  outside  had  contracted  the  facial  muscles,  but 
only  a  spiritual  chill  could  have  changed  so  utterly  the  ex- 
pression they  rendered. 

Those  who  suffer  a  tremendous  bodily  shock,  like  the 
victims  of  a  railway  accident,  are  never  able  to  describe  the 
sensations  that  immediately  follow  the  blow.  A  paralysis 
of  the  very  nerves  and  centre  of  feeling  are  the  first  merciful 
consequence,  to  be  followed — alas,  how  soon ! — by  the  re- 
awakening faculty  for  extremest  suffering.  The  immediate 
effect  of  Hubert's  words  had  been  to  aim  a  blow  at  the  most 
sensitive  part  of  Eila's  organization,  that  inborn,  ingrained 
sentiment  of  family  love  and  pride  which  was  the  dominant 
quality  of  her  nature.  At  first  she  was  simply  stunned,  but 
as  the  full  significance  of  Hubert's  accusation  dawned  upon 
her  slowly,  the  acutest  misery  she  had  ever  been  conscious 
of  feeling  overcame  her.  Not  even  the  moments  of  frenzied 
terror  that  had  marked  her  escaj)e  from  the  clutches  of  her 
lunatic  husband  were  comparable  in  misery  to  those  she  ex- 
perienced now.  Could  she  have  brought  herself  to  recall 
this  phase  of  cruel  mental  anguish  at  a  later  time,  she  might 


THE  CLOUDS   CONTINUE   TO   GATHER.  343 

have  wondered  how  so  many  forms  of  torturing  conjecture 
could  hold  one  poor  helpless  human  mmd  in  their  grasp  at 
one  and  the  same  time.  Dick  was  innocent;  of  that  she 
could  no  more  doubt  than  that  the  sun  was  fire.  But  the 
accusation  brought  against  him  made  her  wince  as  though 
she  had  seen  the  red-hot  brand  of  a  criminal  pressed  hissing 
against  his  smooth  young  flesh  before  her  eyes.  He  was  in- 
nocent. She  and  God— if,  once  more,  there  were  a  God- 
knew  that.  But  supposing  Hubert  refused  to  believe  it.  Or 
supposing,  again,  that  Hubert  should  be  a  fiend— an  arch- 
villain,  like  the  Lucifer  of  which  he  was  so  apt  a  counter- 
part—and that  this  accusation  brought  against  her  brother 
should  be  the  result  of  some  deep-laid  plot  to  get  all  the 
family,  herself  to  begin  with,  into  his  power.  Yet  how  mon- 
strous and  unnecessary  such  a  scheme  would  be  !  Had  she 
not  made  up  her  mind  that  as  long  as  Hubert  was  good  to 
the  others,  as  long  as  he  gave  them  the  wherewithal  to  nour- 
ish themselves  with,  she  would  do  and  be  whatever  he  chose 
to  make  her— his  thing,  like  Beatrice  in  Shakespeare's  com- 
edy. For  an  instant  she  felt  nothing  but  a  wild  desire  to 
fling  back  the  accusation  in  Hubert's  teeth,  and  spurn  all  the 
benefits,  past,  present,  or  to  come,  that  the  family  might  owe 
to  his  bounty— to  escape  v^dth  Mamy  into  the  street  and  look 
for  poor,  ill-used  Dick,  to  confront  him  there  and  then  with 
their  cousin,  and  to  force  Hubert  to  retract  with  abject  apol- 
ogies the  hideous  charge  he  had  made.  Alas  for  these  heroic 
resolves  !  Had  not  Hubert  purchased  the  right  to  treat  the 
family  as  he  chose  ?  What  could  their  defiance  of  him  lead 
to  but  his  desertion  of  them  ?  And  what  would  be  left  them 
then  but  the  octagonal  blue  bottle  that  haunted  Eila's  dreams, 
as  the  vengeful  vision  of  the  Holy  Grail  haunted  the  erring 
Lancelot  ?  The  eyes  she  turned  towards  her  cousin  as  she 
came  to  this  politic  conclusion  were  like  those  of  an  animal 
at  bay.  More  eloquent  than  any  words  was  the  expression 
of  trapped  and  helpless  misery  they  conveyed.  Hubert  con- 
tinued rapidly,  though  in  softer  tones  : 

"  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  myself  of  what  I  say,  but 
there  is  no  necessity  for  you  to  tell  your  mother.  I  have 
only  told  you  because  I  want  you  to  know  that  there  is  good 


344  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

reason  to  believe  your  brother  has  come  to  no  bodily  harm. 
But  he  has  got  into  bad  hands.  I  need  not  say  there  is  a 
•woman  in  the  case."  The  words  were  accompanied  by  a 
sneering  laugh  of  Mephistophelian  significance.  "  Tliere 
always  is.  But  your  brother  is  a  young  fool.  I  don't  look 
upon  him  as  a  deliberate  criminal.  I  mean  to  find  him  and 
bring  him  back,  and  if  he  is  not  frightened  out  of  playing 
the  bm^glar  for  the  rest  of  his  days,  it  will  not  be  my  fault. 
What  you  had  better  do  now  is  to  go  home  with  your  sister. 
You  may  tell  your  mother  that  I  know  where  Dick  is ;  tell 
her  that  he  has  got  into  a  scrape,  and  she  must  wait  until 
I  get  him  out  of  it.     Do  you  understand  ? " 

There  was  certainly  a  warrant  for  asking  the  last  ques- 
tion, for  the  stony  despair  that  had  settled  upon  young  Mrs. 
Frost's  face  made  it  look  more  like  an  uncomprehending 
mask  than  the  countenance  of  a  listening  human  being.  A 
reply  of  some  kind,  however,  was  necessary,  but  how  was 
she  to  frame  it  ?  The  mere  physical  anguish  she  felt  in  the 
muscles  about  the  throat  when  she  essayed  to  speak  forced 
her  to  temporary  silence.  At  last  the  agonized  words,  "  It  is 
a  mistake — it  can't  be  !  If  it  were  as  you  say,  there  would 
be  nothing  left— but  to  kill  ourselves,"  came  forth  in  half- 
stifled  phrases,  pronounced  with  cruel  difficulty.  Hubert 
could  not  have  said  whether  sobs  or  mere  hysteric  gasps  in- 
terfered with  their  utterance.  Either  pity  or  anxiety  to  ward 
off  a  possible  scene,  an  unpleasant  contingency  in  a  public 
place,  with  a  hunchback  man  and  a  beautifixl  woman  for  the 
actors,  prompted  him  to  say,  in  tones  of  reassuring  firmness  : 

"I  thought  you  had  more  self-control,  Eila,  or  I  would 
not  have  spoken  to  you  about  the  matter  at  all.  What  I 
want  you  to  do  is  to  help  me,  and  to  reassure  your  family. 
I  think  your  brother  has  been  tempted  to  take  the  money  by 
a  woman.  Perhaps  she  made  him  believe  it  would  be  re- 
turned. He  is  simple  eaough  to  believe  anything.  But  he 
is  your  brother,  and  that  is  enough  for  me.  His  fate  will 
depend  upon  yourself ;  you  may  go  home  now  with  the  cer- 
tainty that  he  is  in  no  danger.  I  am  going  to  find  your 
sister,  and  I  need  not  warn  you  to  repeat  nothing  to  her  of 
what  I  have  told  you." 


THE  CLOUDS  CONTINUE   TO   GATHER.  345 

Jack's  efforts  to  pacify  Mamy  had  been  more  successful 
than  those  that  Hubert  had  attempted  in  the  direction  of 
her  sister.  The  young  man's  k^gic  might  be  at  fault,  l)ut 
his  certainty  was  so  unassailable  and  absolute  that  it  in- 
spired the  confidence  of  a  kind  of  inspiration.  After  five 
minutes'  parley  with  him,  Dick's  escapade  had  begun  to 
assume  the  proportions  of  a  natural  and  almost  an  inevitable 
incident  in  Mamy's  eyes,  the  only  wonder  being  that  Dick 
had  waited  so  nmch  longer  than  other  brothers  to  absent 
himself  some  fine  night  without  rhyme  or  reason  from  the 
maternal  roof. 

A  cab  was  soon  found.  The  Bacchante's  ghastly  expres- 
sion did  not  escape  Mr.  Wilton's  observation  as  he  put  the 
sisters  inside.  Hubert  forbade  the  notion  of  following  the 
girls  home,  declaring  that  he  had  found  a  clue  to  Dick's 
whereabouts,  and  replying  to  Mamy's  eager  string  of  in- 
quiries by  the  oracular  words,  "  I  know  what  I  know.  Your 
brother  is  in  no  danger.  But  I  must  help  him  out  of  a  little 
scrape  he  has  got  into  before  you  can  see  him  home  again." 

Mamy  clung  to  her  cousin's  arm  imploring  to  be  told 
more.  But  despite  Hubert's  refusal,  the  relief  of  driving 
home  with  even  the  half-ass-urance  that  he  had  given  her 
was  so  enormous  that  she  found  her  spirits  and  her  voice  to- 
gether. But  Eila  was  deaf  to  Mamy's  observations.  She  was 
deaf  to  all,  indeed,  save  a  sentence  of  Hubert's  that  rang  in 
her  ears  in  the  darkness  as  she  drove  home  with  Mamy. 
Hubert  had  placed  the  money  to  pay  for  the  cab  into  her 
hands  at  parting  as  he  bade  her  good-night  at  the  door  of  the 
vehicle,  while  Jack  was  speaking  to  Mamy  on  the  other  side. 

"  Your  brother's  fate  is  in  your  hands,"  he  had  repeated 
to  her  in  low  tones,  and  Eila  knew  in  her  heart  what  was 
implied  in  his  words. 

Had  the  sisters  been  possessed  of  an  invisible  coat  of 
armour,  one  of  them  at  least  might  have  found  her  burden 
greatly  lightened  if  she  could  have  followed  Hubert  an  hour 
later  into  his  room.  For  there  she  would  have  seen  him 
draw  forth  a  letter  addressed  in  Dick's  large  unformed  hand, 
and  read  it,  apparently  for  the  second  time,  by  the  light  of  a 
candle  standing  on  his  chest  of  drawers.     She  might  have 


346  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

taken  comfort,  too,  from  the  half-contemptuous  amusement 
portrayed  in  his  eyes  as  he  read.  Greatest  comfort  of  all, 
however,  would  she  have  found  in  reading  the  letter  itself, 
couched  in  the  following  terms : 

"  Dear  Sir  :  Adele ,  to  whom  you  introduced  me,  is 

to  be  turned  out  of  her  rooms  into  the  streets  if  she  cannot 
pay  a  debt  of  twenty  pounds  contracted  for  helping  her 
brother.  The  man  is  waiting  to  turn  her  out,  and  he  will 
not  listen  to  me.  I  know  if  you  were  here  you  would  lend 
me  or  give  me  the  twenty  napoleons  that  are  to  save  her 
from  ruin.  I  have  waited  as  long  as  I  dared,  and  now  I  am 
going  to  take  the  roll  of  five  hundred  francs  from  your 
drawer  and  run  with  them  to  Adele.  Not  an  instant  is  to 
be  lost,  or  it  will  be  too  late.  I  know  I  have  no  means  of 
paying  you  back,  and  that  you  can  have  me  taken  up  as  a 
robber  if  you  choose.  But  there  is  one  way  in  which  I  can 
pay  the  debt.  You  have  said  you  would  take  me  to  Cologne 
with  the  others.  Now,  instead  of  going,  I  will  stay  and 
drudge  at  the  meanest  occupation — I  will  be  a  chiffonier,  if 
nothing  else  turns  up — until  I  have  saved  you  the  sum  you 
would  have  spent  upon  me.  Did  not  the  body  of  the  debtor 
belong  to  the  creditor  according  to  the  old  Roman  law  ? 
Well,  then,  my  body  is  in  your  possession.  Put  me  to  the 
meanest  tasks.  Try  tortures  on  me  if  that  is  your  pleasure. 
I  shall  not  complain.  Take  the  pound  of  flesh,  and  the 
blood,  too.  I  want  to  pay  my  debt  in  any  way  you  choose 
to  suggest.  I  cannot  go  to  my  home  for  a  day  or  two,  and 
would  rather  not  see  my  people  until  they  return  from  the 
trip,  but  you  will  tell  them  I  have  come  to  no  harm. 

"  It  is  not  for  Adele's  bodily  salvation  alone  that  the 
money  was  required.  When  you  sent  me  to  her,  you  had 
no  idea  I  should  discover  one  of  those  rare  and  grand  types 
of  women  who  are  capable  of  rising  as  high  as  they  have 
fallen  low.  I  use  this  expression  of  fallen  because  it  is  sup- 
posed to  render  the  meaning  I  want  to  convey,  but  I  don't 
endorse  it  in  the  sense  the  world  gives  it  at  all.  I  have 
sworn  to  make  Adele  worthy  of  herself,  and  even  if  I  go  to 
prison  for  it,  my  own  conscience  will  acquit  me.'' 


EILA  IS  ASKED   TO   PAY  THE   COST.  347 

CHAPTER  XI. 

EILA  IS  ASKED   TO   PAY  THE   COST. 

Such  a  night  as  Eila  spent  after  hearing  Hubert's  reve- 
lation might  be  fitly  described  as  a  groping  in  the  valley  of 
the  shadow  of  death.  Her  mattress  on  tlie  floor  was  but  a 
rack  of  torment.  Not  of  bodily  anguish  (though  to  toss  and 
turn  about  through  a  long  sleepless  night  is  physical  dis- 
comfort of  a  kind  that  borders  on  suffering),  but  of  utter 
mental  prostration  and  humiliation.  Bitter  scalding  tears 
coursed  down  her  cheeks  in  the  darkness  as  the  whole  mis- 
erable scene  of  the  previous  evening  recurred  to  her.  What 
if  Hubert's  accusation  wei-e  really  true — if  Dick  had  really 
done  the  deed  ascribed  to  him  ?  But  no — it  could  not  be. 
Dick,  with  his  lofty  speech  and  high-as-heaven  aspirations, 
to  fall  so  pitiably  low !  Dick,  who  could  talk  with  the  tongue 
of  men  and  of  angels,  to  be  denounced  as  a  common  cowardly 
thief !  If  it  were  indeed  true,  then  he  must  be  mad.  How 
otherwise  could  he  have  consented,  in  one  short  hideous  mo- 
ment, to  annihilate  the  dear  early  Dick  they  had  all  believed 
in  and  loved,  and  to  substitute  a  low  criminal  in  his  place  ? 
Only  a  few  years  ago  he  would  have  been  hanged  for  steal- 
ing Hubert's  money.  Her  father-in-law  had  seen  men 
hanged  in  Hobart  in  the  old  days  for  a  less  crime  than  this. 
And  then  the  heartless  cruelty  of  leaving  his  family  to  sur- 
mise that  he  had  been  killed  !  Thank  Heaven,  their  mother 
did  not  know  the  horrible  motive  for  his  absence.  To  have 
the  truth  suspected  at  home  would  indeed  have  filled  Eila's 
cup  to  overflowing.  Bitter  as  the  draught  was,  as  long  as 
she  alone  tasted  the  full  flavour  of  its  bitterness,  she  could 
put  on  a  brave  face  under  her  anguish.  But  to  see  the  others 
lowered  to  the  dust  by  Dick's  crime  would  have  been  more 
than  she  could  bear.  Again  and  again  the  vision  of  the 
octagonal  blue  bottle  shaped  itself  before  her  fevered  vision. 
Why  was  life  given  to  us  entangled  with  so  much  that  cor- 
roded and  spoiled  it  ?  If  it  were  in  reality  the  gift  of  a 
responsible  Power — not  a  mere  accident  resulting  from  the 
working  of  blind  forces — why  was  it  not  permissible  to  re- 
23 


348  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

turn  it  to  the  soiirce  whence  it  came  ?  No  reasonable  person 
could  expect  another  to  accept  a  gift  against  his  will.  As 
for  herself,  she  was  tired  of  struggling  for  the  well-being  of 
the  family.  Some  power  stronger  than  her  own  was  i^erpet- 
ually  fighting  against  her.  When  it  was  not  poverty  it  was 
something  more  terrible  still.  As  for  Dick,  if  he  were  not 
mad,  as  she  half  dreaded,  half  hoped  might  prove  to  be  the 
case,  he  must  at  least  have  cast  off  his  family  for  ever.  Had 
he  retained  but  a  spark  of  his  former  feeling  for  them  he 
could  never  have  acted  as  he  had  done.  He  would  have 
paused  before  branding'  Mamy,  upon  whose  marriage  so 
much  depended,  as  the  sister  of  a  criminal.  Burning-,  unre- 
lieving  tears  coursed  down  Ella's  cheeks  as  the  consequences 
of  her  brother's  crime  rose  before  her  like  avenging  ghosts. 

After  a  night  passed  in  solitary  weeping,  it  was  easy  to 
pretend  a  headache  as  a  reason  for  remaining  the  following 
day  in  her  darkened  room,  and  hiding  her  swollen  eyes  from 
the  commiseration  of  her  sisters.  She  heard  much  fragmen- 
tary talk  concerning  Dick  during  the  course  of  the  morning 
through  the  half -closed  door,  and  more  than  once  her  mother 
or  Mamy  crejit  to  her  bedside  to  make  her  repeat  the  assur- 
ance that  Hubert  had  given  her  of  his  being  bodily  safe. 
At  twelve  Truca  brought  her  a  cup  of  broth  from  the  restau- 
rant, together  with  a  letter  that  had  been  left  by  a  man  from 
the  Hotel  du  Louvre. 

"  Take  away  the  broth,  I  can't  touch  it ;  and  pull  up  the 
blind  a  little — quick  ! "  Eila  cried,  eagerly  snatching  at  the 
letter,  unheedful  of  the  disma,y  portrayed  in  Truca's  face ; 
the  little  girl  had  never  in  all  her  experience  been  treated 
so  by  her  sister,  and  the  rude  rejection  of  her  broth,  in  place 
of  the  loving  kiss  she  had  looked  for,  was  an  additional  mor- 
tification. The  letter  was  from  Hubert,  and  Eila's  face  crim- 
soned as  she  read  the  few  laconic  lines  in  his  clear,  smooth 
handwriting,  so  utterly  unlike  the  winter : 

"  Can  you  meet  me  to-day  at  half-past  three,  by  Cliaj)u's 
Jeanne  d'Arc  in  the  Luxembourg  Gallery  ?  I  have  some- 
thing to  say  that  is  not  for  the  ears  of  the  others  ;  you  may 
make  your  mind  easy  about  your  brother  for  the  present, 


EILA  IS  ASKED   TO   PAY   THE   COST.  349 

and  as  regards  his  ultimate  fate,   the  decision  rests  witli 
yourself." 

With  herself!  Eila  trembled  as  she  read  these  words. 
What  would  she  not  do  to  rescue  Dick  ?  She  was  a  physical 
coward,  it  was  true.  Pain  to  others  as  well  as  to  herself — 
the  very  thought  and  conception  of  it,  even  without  the 
realization,  made  her  sick  at  heart.  Yet  she  believed  that  if 
Hvibert  had  proposed  to  inflict  some  physical  torture  ujion 
her  as  a  means  of  purchasing  Dick's  salvation — siich,  for  in- 
stance, as  the  wrenching  out  of  her  beautiful  firm  teeth  or 
the  racking  of  her  supple  joints — she  could  have  braced 
herself  to  endure  the  martyrdom.  Happily,  such  a  con- 
tingency was  not  to  be  taken  into  account.  Though  there 
was  something  disquieting  and  mysterious  in  her  cousin's 
personality,  it  was  absurd  to  regard  him  in  the  light  of  a 
melodramatic  monster.  Nevertheless,  as  Eila  made  her 
hasty  preparations  for  meeting  him  secretly,  she  suffered  a 
severe  strain  of  mental  tension.  Hubert  was  exacting  upon 
the  point  of  neatness.  Despite  her  agitation,  she  was  care- 
ful to  tie  her  small  spotted  veil  as  neatly  as  possible  over 
the  little  Marie  Stuart  bonnet,  and  even  to  sew  a  missing 
button  on  her  glove  with  shaking  hands.  The  veil  hid  the 
traces  of  her  morning  tears,  and  she  hurried  through  the 
reception-room  with  the  announcement  that  she  was  going 
to  air  her  headache  on  the  boulevards. 

But  Mrs.  Clare  and  Mamy  had  gone  out,  a  ad  Eila  knew 
that  they  were  seeking  for  a  clue  to  Dick's  whereabouts. 
Though  it  was  hardly  past  the  half-hour  as  she  entered  the 
Luxembourg  Gallery,  Hubert  was  there  before  her.  The 
sight  of  his  figiu'e  in  a  public  place  never  failed  to  awaken 
a  pang  of  pity  in  her  breast.  She  hurried  towards  him  now 
by  a  side-passage  between  the  statues,  hoping  to  make  it  ap- 
]3ear  that  slie  had  not  seen  him  from  far  off ;  but  her  feint 
was  unsuccessful.  The  piercing  eyes  surveying  her  over 
the  double  eyeglass  from  beneath  the  rugged  brows  con- 
veyed a  mute  comj)rehension  of  her  manoeuvre  in  their 
saturnine  expression,  and  Eila  felt  almost  too  intimidated 
to  speak.     "  I  am  not  late  ? "  was  all  she  found  breath  to 


350  NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

utter,  in  a  tone  that  conveyed  more  of  apology  than  affirma- 
tion. 

"  No ;  and  if  you  are,  we  have  plenty  of  time,"  he  said 
comi^osedly ;  "the  gallery  is  open  until  five." 

She  followed  him  silently,  as  he  continued  to  examine 
the  statues  and  busts  around  him.  The  contrast  between 
the  idealized  marble  forms  and  the  grotesque  mould  in 
which  Nature  had  cast  him  impressed  her  so  painfully 
that  she  hurried  past  scul^Dtured  gods  and  dancing  nymphs 
with  downcast  eyes.  Hubert  seemed  resolved  upon  pro- 
longing the  penitential  promenade  without  regard  to  her 
feelings ;  but  at  last  they  found  themselves  in  the  long  pic- 
ture-gallery that  runs  at  right  angles  to  the  hall  of  sculp- 
ture. Eila  was  wont  to  turn  in  here  at  odd  moments  of  the 
day,  and  could  have  found  the  way  to  her  favourite  pictures 
blindfold  ;  but  now  the  luminous  reflection  from  past  Diazes 
and  modern  Duezes  had  lost  its  charm  for  her.  She  might, 
indeed,  have  been  walking  in  the  catacombs  under  her  feet, 
for  all  she  saw  of  the  jjictures.  Hubert  made  a  feint  of 
being  entirely  absorbed  in  them,  pausing  before  the  balus- 
trade with  his  hands  resting  upon  the  bar,  and  critically 
examining  each  painting  in  turn. 

"  He  is  doing  it  to  torment  me,"  thought  Eila  to  herself ; 
"he  is  like  Quilp,  after  all." 

Her  anxiety  for  news  of  her  brother  was  overwhelming, 
but  she  shrank  from  the  terror  of  hearing  his  name  coupled 
Avith  the  word  "  thief."  Whatever  horror  the  idea  of  Dick's 
crime  might  inspire,  he  was,  after  all,  of  her  own  flesh  and 
blood,  one  of  the  sacred  band,  and  the  thought  that  this  man 
by  her  side  had  the  power,  nay,  perhajjs  the  will,  to  brand 
him  with  lifelong  infamy  was  unendurable  to  her.  But 
Hubert  seemed  to  have  forgotten  the  object  which  had  been 
the  ostensible  motive  of  his  sending  for  her.  He  had  halted, 
for  what  appeared  to  his  victim  an  interminable  time,  in 
front  of  Cormont's  mighty  canvas,  looking  with  grim  satis- 
faction at  the  wonderful  scene  depicted  thereon.  Here  we 
see  the  wild  descendants  of  Cain,  hawk-nosed  and  tawny- 
haired,  sweeping  fiercely  on  their  restless  trainp  through 
the  desert.    The  curse  which  impelled  them  to  fly  before  the 


EILA  IS  ASKED  TO  PAY  THE  COST.  351 

face  of  the  Lord  is  interpreted  with  terrifying  realism. 
Mighty  hunters  are  they,  with  the  bleeding  fragments  of 
the  wild  beasts  they  have  slain  dangling  in  ghastly  prox- 
imity to  the  half-clad  women  and  children  borne  along 
upon  a  litter.  In  her  normal  state  Eila  would  have  gazed 
at  this  picture  with  the  bright  fresh  interest  all  works  of 
art  aroused  in  her,  delighting  in  its  realistic  and  imagina- 
tive power.  To-day  it  impressed  her  differently.  Cormont's 
masterpiece  only  seemed  to  emphasize  the  dreariness  of 
liLmaan  destiny  from  the  beginning  of  the  world.  In  the 
hunted  children  of  Cain  she  seemed  to  see  her  own  remote 
ancestors,  to  realize  that  the  curse  which  rested  on  them 
had  descended  upon  herself  and  her  belongings.  Perhaps 
Dick,  poor  Dick !  had  a  forefather  like  these  among  the 
mountain  tribes  of  India,  whose  raids  he  was  now  to  expiate 
in  a  nineteenth-century  gaol.  Where,  then,  did  individual 
responsibility  begin  and  end,  and  if  scapegoats  and  victims 
must  inevitably  be  called  into  being,  should  we  not  rather 
pity  than  blame  them  ? 

Under  the  influence  of  these  sombre  reflections,  Eila  was 
turning  away  from  her  contemplation  of  the  picture,  when 
Hubert's  voice  recalled  her : 

"  A  fine  painting,  is  it  not  ? "  he  remarked  suavely, 
"  though  there  is  a  suggestion  of  sandy  blight  in  the  atmos- 
phere I  don't  like." 

His  tone  was  interrogatory,  and  her  reply  betrayed  the 
bitterness  she  was  feeling. 

"  You  know  I  am  no  judge  of  pictures,  Hubert,"  she  said 
wearily  "  All  I  can  see  in  this  one  is  a  reminder  of  how 
miserable  we  were  doomed  to  be  from  the  beginning.  But 
if  it  is  only  for  the  pictures  you  came,  I  will  ask  you  to  let 
me  go  away.  They  want  me  at  home,  and  I  have  not  been 
well ;  indeed " 

Her  lips  quivered.  She  could  have  found  it  in  her  heart 
to  cry  for  sheer  pity  of  herself  at  this  moment.  Never  had 
she  felt  more  completely  discouraged  and  forlorn.  Hubert's 
manner  changed.  If  he  felt  a  secret  sense  of  elation  at  the 
certainty  that  he  had  the  beautiful  Bacchante  in  his  power, 
he  did  not  show  it.     He  assured  his  cousin  courteously  that 


353  NOT   COUNTING   THE  COST. 

he  had  had  no  intention  of  hiring  her  to  the  Lvixembourg 
on  false  pretences. 

"  The  fact  is  that  I  have  a  very  important  communica- 
tion to  make  to  you,"  he  added.  "  You  do  look  rather  pale 
and  tired,  and  as  it  may  take  somewhat  long  in  the  saying, 
suppose  we  go  upstairs  and  find  a  seat  in  some  empty  room 
where  nobody  is  likely  to  disturb  us." 

Eila  mutely  expressed  her  acquiescence. 

Her  heart  was  beating  with  loud  api:)rehensive  throbs  as 
she  followed  him  ux?  the  staircase.  Feeling  it  flutter  with  a 
quick,  irregular  movement  as  she  paused  to  take  breath,  she 
wondered  in  her  inexperience  whether  this  might  be  a 
symptom  of  heart  disease — a  preliminary,  indeed,  to  the 
stopping  of  the  heart's  action  altogether.  She  had  heard  of 
people  dying  suddenly  in  this  way,  and  it  seemed  to  her  at 
this  moment  that  their  lot  was  one  to  be  envied. 

Hvibert  led  the  way  to  a  square  room  terminating  an  ob- 
long gallery.  The  few  sober  pictures  against  the  walls — a 
green  riverside  with  a  flower-strewn  meadow,  from  the 
brush  of  Daubigny — attracted  few  visitors.  In  the  recess  of 
the  window  was  a  bench  upon  which  Eila  seated  herself  with 
her  face  turned  from  the  light.  Hubert  remained  standing, 
his  arm  resting  upon  the  balustrade  that  guarded  the  jiictures. 

In  this  position  he  could  look  down  upon  his  victim,  al- 
most dominate  her,  for  young  Mrs.  Frost  appeared  indeed 
like  a  trembling  culprit  before  him.  The  sense  of  family 
solidarity,  the  ruling  sentiinent  in  her  nature,  surged  up 
within  her  in  the  presence  of  her  brother's  accuser.  Her 
dark  eyes  assumed  unconsciously  an  expression  of  resentful 
defiance.  Hubert  watched  her  for  some  time  in  silence. 
Then  casting  a  furtive  glance  round  the  room  to  see  that  no 
one  was  in  hearing,  he  addressed  her  in  words  so  unlooked 
for  that  a  shock  of  surprise  was  the  first  sensation  they 
awakened.  Surely  they  were  the  last  she  could  have  ex- 
pected to  hear  from  him  at  such  a  moment. 

"  Eila,  have  you  cared  for  many  men  in  your  life  ? "  he 
asked  abruptly,  though  in  low,  softly-pitched  tones,  while 
his  eyes  seemed  to  question  her  inmost  soul. 

"  No  ! "  she  replied  wonderingly ;  "  why  ?  " 


EILA  IS  ASKED   TO    PAY  THE   COST.  353 

Her  astonishment  was  great,  but  the  feeling  of  being  im- 
pelled by  a  will  stronger  than  her  own  seemed  to  make  her 
answer  come  of  its  own  accord  without  any  exercise  of  voli- 
tion on  her  own  part.  She  could  almost  understand  now 
how  criminals  might  be  brovight  to  avow  a  crime  that  it  had 
been  the  object  of  their  lives  to  conceal,  for  the  sole  reason 
that  they  were  brought  into  subjection  by  the  stronger  will 
of  the  questioner. 

"Do  you  care  for  anyone  now,  either  here  or  in  Au.s- 
tralia  ? "  Hubert  insisted,  still  keeping  his  eyes  intently 
fixed  upon  her. 

"  No,"  said  Eila  again  ;  "  no  one." 

Her  voice  sounded  far-away  and  almost  dreamy.  She 
could  not  feel  in  her  heart  that  she  returned  Reginald's  love 
in  kind.  Rather,  she  let  herself  be  loved  by  him,  because 
she  was  in  need  of  someone  to  trust  and  to  lean  upon.  But 
she  found  the  separation  from  him  by  half  the  world's  cir- 
cumference endurable  enough,  not  hungering  for  his  bodily 
presence,  as  undoubtedly  he  hungered  for  hers. 

"  You  are  a  strange  woman,"  was  Hubert's  next  remark. 
"  Now  that  the  way  is  cleared,  I  may  as  well  come  to  the 
end  of  what  I  have  to  say.  But  first  of  all  you  must  let  me 
wai*n  you  that  I  am  taking  it  for  granted  that  you  are  en- 
tirely without  prejudices  ;  you  have  led  me  to  infer  as  much 
more  than  once." 

He  paused,  and  she  interposed  with,  "  What  kind  of 
prejudices  ? " 

She  felt  the  question  to  be  a  weak  one,  but  her  curiosity 
was  aroused,  and  she  would  fain  have  obtained  some  notion 
of  the  ground  upon  which  she  was  treading. 

"Every  kind,"  Hubert  said,  frowning:  "religious,  social, 
traditional,  familiar — any  name  by  which  you  choose  to  call 
them ;  received  or  preconceived  notions  of  whatever  sort. 
You  are  free  of  them  all,  are  you  not  ?  " 

"  It  depends,"  Eila  made  reply,  "  upon  what  you  call 
'prejudices.' " 

The  argumentative  family  instinct  was  beginning  to 
assert  itself.  Her  eyes  lost  their  vacant  look,  and  became 
earnest  and  interested  as  she  raised  them  towards  his. 


354  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

"  What  I  call  prejudices ! "  he  repeated  after  a  pause  for 
reflection.  "  Well,  I  should  call  a  prejudice  anything  that 
prevented  me  from  affirming  my  individuality  whenever 
and  however  I  may  choose.  There  are  ways,  of  course,  with 
which  the  law  interferes,  and  then  one  is  helpless.  I  value 
my  freedom  too  much  to  give  the  law  a  pretext  for  depriv- 
ing me  of  it.  Perhaps  I  was  not  always  so  wise.  However, 
that  has  nothing  to  do  with  present  affairs.  I  never  run 
counter  to  the  law  now  ;  the  game  is  not  worth  the  candle. 
Short  of  that,  I  have  no  law  but  my  own  inclinations.  I 
thought  you  had  much  the  same  princij)le  of  action." 

"  Did  you  ?  Well,  I  am  a  kind  of  individualist,  I  sup- 
pose," said  Eila,  hesitating — "  for  myself,  at  least,  because  I 
would  institute  Socialism  for  the  rest  of  the  world  if  I 
could." 

"A  very  convenient  theory."  Hubert  smiled  grimly. 
"  Well,  as  it  appears  we  are  both  individualists,  I  may  affirm 
my  particular  form  of  individualism  without  fear  of  shock- 
ing you.  There  is  one  point  especially  in  which  mine  dif- 
fers from  yours,  that  I  should  like  to  discuss  with  you.  In- 
stead of  being  a  beautiful  woman  in  the  full  heyday  of  her 
youth,  I  am — well,  what  you  see."  He  hurried  over  the  last 
words  with  sneering  accents.  "  Yet,  being  what  I  am,  I  still 
cling  to  the  illusion  of  introducing  the  element  into  my  life 
that  you  seem  to  have  put  so  quietly  out  of  yours.  You  look 
astonished,  Eila.  Those  very  remarkable  eyes  of  yours  are 
easier  to  read  than  you  suspect ;  it  is  a  fact,  all  the  same. 
For  all  the  years  that  I  have  i^assed  in  exile  I  have  never 
lost  my  hold  of  the  vision  that  had  to  do  duty  for  the  reality. 
You  see,  the  reality  never  came  in  my  way — and  if  it  had  it 
would  not  have  helped  me  much — never,  that  is  to  say,  until 
I  met  2/OM." 

He  stopped.  She  made  no  rejoinder,  and  Hubert  con- 
tinued passionately : 

"  I  never  dreamed  of  meeting  such  a  woman  as  you.  I 
should  not  have  thought  it  possible.  But  having  met  you 
face  to  face,  how  could  I  ever  fall  back  on  my  vision  again  ? 
It  would  not  be  possible,  however  I  might  try.  It  must  be 
you  or  nothing,  Eila.     Listen  to  me,  and  don't  look  from 


EILA   IS  ASKED  TO   PAY  THE   COST.  355 

side  to  side  like  a  frightened  bird.  Those  people  are  much 
more  interested  in  studying  the  landscape  upside  down  in 
the  water  than  in  watching  you.  When  they  see  nothing 
else  in  a  picture  they  can  always  appreciate  the  reflection. 
I  say,  again,  it  must  be  you  or  nothing.  I  ana  not  going  to 
mock  you  by  asking  you  to  bestow  your  love  upon  me. 
Don't  be  afraid  of  that.  But  you  have  assured  me  that  you 
are  heart-whole.  I  have  watched  you  closely  from  the  very 
outset  of  om'  acquaintance,  and  I  am  inclined  to  believe 
you.  You  have  no  one  depending  upon  you,  no  social  posi- 
tion to  keep  up,  no  children,  no  ties,  none  that  matter,  at 
least,  no  responsibilities  of  any  kind  :  you  are  as  free  as  air. 
Now,  I  admire  you  with  an  intensity  of  which  you  can  form 
no  conception.  It  is  like  a  new  life  to  me  to  be  near  you. 
What  the  hold  is  I  cannot  say.  I  suppose  your  beauty 
has  the  strongest  share  in  it.  Beauty- worship  is  my 
only  religion,  as  you  are  aware.  It  is  like  the  sun  to 
a  fire-worshipper.  I  have  more  than  the  ordinary  mascu- 
line craze  for  it,  for  reasons  which  we  need  not  go  into 
now.  Now,  why  should  you  not  let  yourself  be  wor- 
shipped by  me  in  my  own  way  " — his  eyes  seemed  to  con- 
tract with  the  intensity  of  the  gaze  he  fastened  upon  her 
downcast  face — "  in  exchange  for  the  services  I  can  render 
your  family  ?  There  is  Dick  to  be  discovered,  vaiH—not 
punished,  do  you  say  ?  Helped,  rather,  into  an  honourable 
and  paying  berth.  Nothing  is  easier,  if  one  pays  for  it. 
Then  you  would  like  your  other  brother  to  be  given  a  better 
billet,  would  not  you  ?  and  have  an  annuity  settled  upon 
your  mother  and  sisters,  that  would  make  you  easy  about 
them  for  the  rest  of  their  natural  lives.  You  have  the  power 
to  accomplish  all  this,  and  more,  if  you  choose.  What 
price  are  you  asked  to  pay  for  it  ? — you  will  want  to  know. 
Well,  nothing  more  than  to  be  a  little  kind  to  me  in  my 
own  way.  My  adoration  of  you  in  secret  need  not  trouble 
anybody.  I  shall  not  proclaim  it  on  the  house-tops,  I 
promise  you,  though  there  are  men  who  in  my  place  might 
like  to  figure  as  the  ass  that  carried  the  image  of  gold.  I 
want  your  permission  to  place  you  all  in  comfortable  cir- 
cumstances ;  that  is  all.     You  may  say  my  action  is  unchiv- 


356  NOT   COUNTING  THE   COST. 

alrous.  I  can't  help  that.  I  have  my  own  views,  and  noth- 
ing can  change  my  resolution.  Let  me  say,  too,  that  you 
are  not  likely  to  hear  of  your  brother  before  you  have  hon- 
oured me  with  an  answer.  I  have  no  desire  to  punish  him 
for  his  clumsy  theft,  but  there  is  no  motive  for  my  preventing 
the  law  from  taking  its  course,  unless  you  bid  me  do  so. 
To-night  it  will  be  too  late.  Now,  will  you  have  a  few  mo- 
ments to  consider  while  I  go  and  admire  the  landscape  up- 
side down  in  the  river-picture  ?  To  save  useless  discussion, 
suppose  you  take  it  for  granted,  once  for  all,  that  my  mind 
is  iri'evocably  made  up  as  regards  the  conditions.  You  will 
surrender  yourself  entirely,  and  trust  to  me  to  do  what  is 
best  for  the  family,  or  the  law  will  take  its  course,  and  I 
leave  you  and  your  belongings  to  your  fate  henceforth  and 
for  ever  ! " 

He  walked  away ;  he  had  given  her  time  to  reflect,  and 
she  sat  with  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap,  her  head  a  little 
bent  forward,  looking  at  the  ground.  It  was  curious  that 
even  at  this  crisis  of  her  life  she  noticed  the  polished  smooth- 
ness of  the  Luxembourg  boards,  and  wondered  whether 
they  were  waxed  every  morning,  and  whether  one  man 
did  all  the  work  alone.  Her  recent  experiences  in  that 
line  had  given  her  almost  a  professional  interest  in  floor- 
waxing.  She  wished  she  could  force  herself  to  think  se- 
riously over  the  question  she  had  been :  left  to  decide.  She 
wondered  whether  if  her  life  and  death  had  been  in  the 
balance  she  would  have  experienced  the  same  kind  of 
numbed,  half-alive  sensation  she  was  conscious  of  now.  It 
might  be  that  condemned  criminals  did  not  really  suffer  so 
excruciatingly  in  their  minds  at  the  last  moment,  after  all. 
But  it  was  not  about  other  criminals,  it  was  aboixt  herself, 
she  had  to  think.  Let  her  reflect  a  moment.  Hubert  had 
proposed  that  she  should  put  herself  in  his  hands — or,  in 
other  words,  that  she  should  become  his  unaccredited  wife ; 
and  in  return  for  this  concession  he  was  prepared  to  liberate 
her  brother,  to  place  the  family  upon  a  footing  of  wealth 
and  outward  respectability,  and  to  leave  her,  at  least  in 
appearance,  to  continue  her  home-life  upon  its  ordinary 
footing.     Looking  at  the  matter  dispassionately,  was  there 


EILA  IS  ASKED   TO   PAY  THE  COST.  357 

anything'  monstrous  in  the  proposition  ?  Though  she  was 
legally  bound  to  her  hizsband,  circumstances  had  given  her 
the  most  absolute  freedom  as  regarded  her  movements. 
There  was  not  a  being  ui>on  earth  whose  rights  or  interests 
she  would  be  damaging — as  far  as  she  could  see  at  present 
— in  pursuing  the  course  suggested  by  Hubert.  It  would 
be  a  mere  hypocritical  pretence  to  urge  that  her  husband 
would  be  injured  by  it — she  had  no  husband.  The  man 
she  had  married  existed  no  longer — would  never  exist 
again — and  the  j)Oor  lunatic  who  had  taken  his  place,  away 
in  the  asylum  in  the  Antipodes,  would  be  neither  the  better 
nor  the  worse  for  any  use  she  might  make  of  her  freedom. 
Hubert  himself  had  no  ties.  There  was  the  objection,  to  be 
sure,  that  she  did  not  love  him  ;  but,  then,  if  she  had  loved 
him,  where  would  have  been  the  sacrifice  ?  Was  she  not 
always  urging  upon  Mamy  the  necessity  of  sacrificing  her- 
self for  her  family  by  marrying  a  man  with  whom  she  was 
not  actually  in  love ;  and  should  she  not  herself  practise 
what  she  preached,  now  that  the  opportunity  presented  it- 
self ?  What  behoved  a  person  who  loved  her  family  was  to 
do  the  thing  that  seemed  most  advantageous  to  their  inter- 
ests, putting  herself  and  her  own  feelings  entirely  out  of 
the  question.  Certainly  some  people  might  shrink  from 
binding  themselves  by  a  secret  chain,  unhallowed  by  love, 
and  from  entering  deliberately  upon  a  life  of  deceit  and 
subterfuge.  But  only  let  these  people  have  a  brother  on 
the  brink  of  being  dragged  to  prison,  and  a  mother  and 
sisters  who  would  go  mad  with  grief — let  them  know  what 
it  felt  like  to  see  their  belongings  threatened  with  ruin  and 
starvation,  and  then  see  how  they  would  act.  Life  was 
made  so  easy  for  some  persons,  and  so  cruelly  hard  for 
othei's.  But  she  would  not  complain  if  the  rest  were  spax-ed 
and  she  alone  should  be  made  the  family  scapegoat.  There 
was  even  a  foretaste  of  bitter  triumph  in  the  prospect  of 
becoming  their  secret  saviour  and  deliverer. 

Another  sentiment,  not  clearly  defined  or  acknowledged 
even  to  herself,  helped  to  bias  Eila's  mind.  She  foresaw 
vaguely  that  her  power  over  Hubert  would  be  a  thousand- 
fold increased  by  her  apparent  abdication  of  it.     By  acced- 


358  NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

ing  to  his  proposal  she  would  hold  him  by  every  fibre  of  his 
being,  and  could  make  him  do  whatever  she  chose  in  behalf 
of  the  others. 

Never  was  a  bargain  where  two  human  souls  were  in  the 
balance  more  coldly  considered.  Never  did  maiden  on  the 
eve  of  going  to  the  altar  with  a  wealthy  and  detested  suitor 
count  the  cost  more  deliberately.  Had  Hubert  returned  at 
this  moment,  it  is  even  possible  that  the  unholy  contract 
might  have  been  sealed  off-hand. 

"  Take  me,  Hubert,"  Eila  would  have  sobbed  out.  "  I 
don't  love  you,  and  I  am  terrified  of  you.  But  to  have  you 
do  all  you  promise  for  the  others,  why,  you  might  cut  me 
in  little  pieces,  if  you  chose." 

Or,  if  she  had  not  uttered  these  words,  she  would  have 
thought  them,  and,  acting  upon  the  thought,  would  have 
made  Hubert  understand  that  she  was  prepared  to  accept 
his  conditions  without  further  parley.  She  would  have 
taken  upon  herself  the  mission  that  Beauty  assumed  when 
she  sallied  forth,  alone  and  trembling,  into  the  garden  of 
the  Beast;  that  which  devolved  upon  the  unconscious 
daughter  of  Jephthah  when  she  danced  along  with  airy 
step  to  meet  and  greet  her  returning  sire.  And  she  would 
have  justified  herself  by  declaring  that  the  sacrifice  exacted 
of  her  was  harder  than  that  exacted  from  either  of  these 
doomed  maidens.  It  was,  indeed,  upon  her  tongue  to  call 
Hubert  back,  and  to  whisper  with  white  lips  that  she  was 
prei^ared  to  pay  the  price  he  demanded  of  her.  One  con- 
sideration, and  one  only,  made  her  pause — her  promise  to 
Reginald. 

Poor  Reginald  !  Eila's  feeling  about  him  at  this  mo- 
ment was  almost  akin  to  anger.  What  right  had  he  to 
claim  her  promise,  with  nothing  but  his  love  to  offer  her  in 
exchange  ?  Ah,  if  he  covxld  have  sealed  her  lips  with  gold, 
as  Hubert  could  have  done,  it  would  have  been  a  very  differ- 
ent matter.  But  the  family  might  perish  at  his  feet ;  he 
would  be  powerless  to  help  them.  Nevertheless,  the  scene 
of  her  parting  with  him  on  the  moonlit  heights  of  Cowa  the 
night  before  her  fatal  departure  recurred  to  her  with  sudden 
and  startling  vividness.    Reginald's  tone,  his  look,  the  prom- 


EILA  IS  ASKED   TO  PAY  THE  COST.  359 

ise  she  had  given  him  to  take  no  irretrievable  step  without 
consulting  him,  his  almost  prophetic  foreboding  of  the 
thing  that  had  happened  to  her  now — all  these  considera- 
tions rushed  upon  her  memory  in  one  overwhelming  Hood. 
The  simple  force  of  a  promise  given,  of  an  obligation  that 
must  be  fulfilled  before  she  was  even  free  to  act,  rose  clear 
and  strong  in  her  mind.  And  now  softer  recollections  of 
the  farewell  interview  intervened  to  make  her  pause.  The 
impression  of  the  parting  scene  seemed  to  grow  in  intensity. 
The  silver  sparkle  of  the  bay  at  her  feet,  the  misty  glory  of 
the  mountain  looming  against  the  night  sky,  the  dear 
familiar  homestead  whence  the  assured  sounds  of  the  col- 
lective family  voice  reached  her  across  the  moonlit  strip  of 
garden,  her  own  fond  and  foolish  anticipations  of  all  she 
would  see  and  achieve  upon  the  enchanted  soil  of  Europe, 
Reginald's  absorbing  self-efPacing  love  and  worship  of  her — 
the  vision  of  this  scene  and  its  accompanying  sensations 
rose  vividly  before  her.  Yes,  she  was  bound  by  the  most 
solemn  of  promises.  Though  all  else  might  be  dark,  that  at 
least  was  clear :  to  take  no  decisive  step,  to  let  no  man  gain 
j)ossession  of  her  until  she  had  consulted  her  best  and  near- 
est friend.  Hubert  might  place  the  knife  at  her  throat,  he 
might  threaten  to  sever  the  hair  which  held  the  shadowy 
sword  of  Damocles  suspended  over  her  head,  he  should  not 
make  her  break  her  promise  to  Reginald.  Her  momentary 
irritation  against  the  latter  was  followed  by  a  mood  of  re- 
morseful penitence,  coupled  with  the  sense  of  a  great  de- 
liverance. Whatever  the  future  might  have  in  store  for 
her,  Reginald  had  saved  her  in  the  present  crisis.  And  now 
she  must  gain  time  to  consult  him  before  deciding  for  her- 
self. The  colour  returned  to  her  cheeks.  She  sighed  as  one 
who  awakes  from  a  nightmare,  and  seeing  Hubert  approach 
her,  felt  a  sudden  inspiration  move  her  from  without.  Slie 
noticed  that  his  hue  was  ghastly.  This,  however,  was  the 
only  evidence  of  emotion  he  betrayed.  He  drew  nearer. 
Neither  spoke  for  a  moment.  Then  he  seated  himself  delib- 
erately on  the  bench  by  her  side,  and  laid  his  hat  upon  his 
knees.  The  air  that  enveloped  them  was  heavy  with  warmth. 
Nevertheless,  Eila  felt  her  forehead  grow  cold  as  though 


360  NOT   COUNTING  THE  COST. 

a  hand  of  ice  had  been  laid  upon  it.  No  one  was  in 
sight. 

"  Well  ? "  said  Hubert  at  last  interrogatively ;  and  it 
seemed  to  her  that  there  was  a  note  of  inflexible  significance 
in  the  short,  smooth -sounding  monosyllable. 

What  power  moved  her  to  say  the  words  she  uttered  in 
reply  she  could  not  have  told.  But  it  was  a  power  that 
seemed  distinct  from  herself.  She  felt  as  she  uttered  them 
that  they  were  the  most  fitting  she  could  have  employed, 
and  that  if  she  had  spent  days  and  nights  in  thinking  over 
them,  she  would  not  have  found  any  to  serve  her  purpose 
better. 

"  Hubert,"  she  began,  and  very  soft  and  sweet  the  name 
sounded  in  her  utterance  of  it,  "  you  and  I  are  not  in  the 
least  like  ordinary  people,  so  I  am  going  to  speak  to  you  not 
like  an  ordinary  person.  I  am  not  offended  by  anything 
you  have  said — only  don't  you  think  the  thing  you  have 
been  joroposing  sounds  rather  a  cold-blooded  arrangement  ? 
You  say  that  you  have  taken  it  for  granted  that  I  have  no 
prejudices,  and  there  you  are  right.  I  know  I  have  often 
thought,  if  I  could  begin  my  life  over  again,  I  should  not 
care  to  be  bound  to  the  man  I  loved  by  any  other  tie  than 
the  one  of  mutual  inclination  ;  unless,  of  course,  there  were 
the  question  of  children  and  their  interests  to  consider.  But 
holding  those  views,  I  could  not  feel  hurt  by  your  wanting 
me  to  care  for  you  altogether,  situated  as  we  are.  Only 
while  you  were  walking  about  just  now  I  thought  the  mat- 
ter over,  and  I  found  that  I  was  hurt  and  wounded.  Shall 
I  tell  you  why  ?  It  is  because,  instead  of  trying  to  win  me 
by  being  as  you  have  always  shown  yourself  until  now  " — 
this  was  the  most  insidious  form  of  flattery  that  could  have 
been  employed — "  you  threaten  me  all  of  a  sudden  that,  if  I 
do  not  do  as  you  want  instantly,  you  will  revenge  yourself 
on  the  family.  I  don't  believe  you  meant  what  you  said. 
You  only  wanted  to  try  me.  I  would  not  insult  you  by 
even  supposing  you  were  in  earnest,  or  that  you  would  be 
capable  of  using  your  power  over  poor  miserable  Dick  as 
you  say.  What  would  be  the  object  of  using  force  ?  Why 
should  you  not  make  me  care  for  you  by  fair  means  ?    Talk 


EILA   IS  ASKED  TO  PAY  THE  COST.  361 

to  me  reasonably,  and  give  me  a  little  time  to  reflect.  I  have 
been  so  grateful  to  you  all  this  time,  Hubert — you  can't 
think.  I  have  been  wanting  for  ever  so  long  to  find  an  op- 
portunity of  proving  my  gratitude  and — and — affection. 
Don't  spoil  everything  so  needlessly.  It  is  such  a  pity.  If 
you  care  about  me  as  you  say  you  do,  surely  I  am  worth 
waiting  for  a  little.  To  hold  me  to  the  terms  you  proposed 
would  be  to  treat  me  like  a  Circassian  slave,  or  one  of  the 
worst  of  the  Luxembourg  grisettes.  And  I  have  done  noth- 
ing to  deserve  it,  indeed.  I  thought  you  understood  there 
were  things  that  had  no  value  unless  they  were  freely 
given." 

She  paused,  waiting  for  his  reply.  Hubert  did  not  look 
at  her  as  he  framed  his  answer.  Her  stately,  well-poised 
head  seemed  almost  out  of  reach  of  his  lowering  eyes.  He 
kept  his  face  averted  and  spoke  with  jDassiouate  rapidity  : 

"  Your  reasoning  is  clever,  Eila — too  clever.  It  is  not  the 
true  expression  of  what  you  feel.  You  only  want  to  gain 
time.  All  that  you  say  would  be  perfectly  true  as  applied 
to  other  people.  It  is  not  true  of  us.  If  I  were  an  '  ordi- 
nary man ' — as  you  said  just  now — if  I  were  free  of  the 
accursed  deformity  that  has  ruined  all  my  life,  I  would  not 
speak  to  you  as  I  have  done :  I  would  trust  to  winning  you 
by  gentler  means.  But  that  is  out  of  the  question.  It  is 
against  Nature  that  you  should  feel  for  me  as  I  feel  for  you. 
Whether  now  or  later,  our  union  must  be  a  violence  done 
to  your  instincts.  But  herein  lies  my  sole  excuse.  I  have 
a  presentiment  that,  once  you  are  wholly  mine,  I  can  make 
you  fond  of  me.  It  sounds  outrageously  fatuous,  doesn't  it  ? 
But  I  maintain  my  point,  notwithstanding.  You  are  like  a 
person  who  is  asked  to  take  a  leap  over  a  precipice.  As 
long  as  you  linger  on  the  edge,  you  will  shrink  from  the 
prospect  with  terror  and  horror.  But  once  the  leap  is  taken, 
I  swear  to  you  that  you  will  have  no  cause  to  regret  it.  If 
I  tried  to  drive  you  over  by  unfair  means,  you  must  not  be 
too  angry  with  me.  It  was  for  your  sake  as  much  as  my 
own.  I  am  so  certain  of  being  able  to  make  your  life  a 
happy  one.  The  present  position  is  not  tenable.  If  I  pass 
for  a  monster,  I  am  none  the  less  a  man ;  and  I  love  you 


362  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

with  all  the  accumulated  intensity  and  passion  of  a  man 
who  has  been  starved  of  love  all  his  life." 

"  What  a  2iumber  of  different  ways  of  loving  there  are  ! " 
interrupted  Eila  reflectively,  her  mind  reverting  to  Regi- 
nald's vows  of  utterly  disinterested  fidelity.  "  Tell  me  truly, 
Hubert,  would  you  marry  me  if  I  were  free  ? " 

"  Would  to  God  you  were  !"  he  said  fervently.  "  Would 
you  marry  me  f    That  is  more  to  the  j^urpose." 

"  I  would  soon  answer  you  if  I  were,"  she  replied 
quickly. 

There  was  no  direct  affirmation  in  her  words,  but  he 
caught  at  the  assent  implied  in  them. 

"  That  is  all  I  wanted  to  know,"  he  said.  "  Tliere  are 
women  without  end  who  pretend  to  be  horrified  at  the  no- 
tion of  free  marriages  who  would  yet  sell  themselves  with- 
out scruple  under  cover  of  the  Church.  But  you  are  not 
one  of  those.  If  you  were  to  send  me  away,  it  would  be 
simijly  because  I  am  repugnant  to  you." 

"  Oh,  no — no !  Don't  say  that ! "  she  cried.  "  It  isn't  that 
at  all.  It  is  for  the  sole  and  simple  reason  that  I  gave  you. 
I  want  time  to  get  used  to  the  idea.  If  you  had  asked  me 
to  marry  you,  I  should  have  said  just  the  same.  I  should 
have  begged  you  to  let  me  think  over  it  for  a  little.  It 
could  not  inspire  confidence  in  a  person  to  hear  him  say  as 
you  did,  '  You  must  come  to  me  at  once — this  moment — or 
I  will  leave  you  and  all  your  belongings  to  starve  ! '  " 

He  made  an  impatient  gesture  of  denegation. 

"  You  don't  understand  ;  I  can't  bring  you  the  conviction 
I  want  until  you  have  trusted  me,  and  that  is  why  I  am  so 
intolerant  of  delay.  As  things  are  now,  I  have  the  constant 
terror  of  losing  you  before  my  eyes.  It  makes  me  feel  al- 
most like  a  devil  sometimes.  Once  I  am  sure  of  you,  my 
sole  object  in  life  will  be  to  make  you  rejoice  that  you  con- 
sented to  listen  to  me.  I  will  refuse  you  nothing.  What 
do  you  most  desire  in  all  the  world  for  your  brothers  and 
sisters  ?  I  will  be  your  slave  of  the  lamp,  ready  to  do  your 
secret  bidding,  and  no  one  in  the  world  will  suspect  where 
your  magic  cave  lies  hidden." 

She  shook  her  head  with  a  doubtful  half-smile. 


EILA   IS   ASKED   TO   PAY   THE   COST.  363 

"  People  would  know,  all  the  same  ;  and  there  are  things 
that  even  you  could  not  do.  Supposing  that  I  were  am- 
bitious for  Mamy,  and  that  I  cherished  a  dream  of  seeing 
■  her  figure  in  fashionable  society  ?  " 

"  The  easiest  thing  in  the  world  with  money,"  declared 
Hubert  promptly.  "  We  would  give  her  the  income  of  an 
imaginaiy  fortune  in  the  background,  and  find  some  impe- 
cunious old  dowager  to  j)resent  her  at  Court,  and  take  her 
to  balls  and  parties  in  the  season.  Is  that  the  summit  of 
your  ambition  for  your  sister  ? " 

"  No ;  I  would  rather  she  had  singing  lessons,  and  I  only 
wanted  to  see  what  you  would  say.  Hubert" — she  tuiuied 
towards  him  suddenly  with  a  jjleading  gesture — "  you  will 
let  Dick  come  back  to  us  to-night  ? " 

"  That  is  as  you  choose,"  he  replied  doggedly  ;  "  you  know 
the  conditions." 

"  Oh,  don't  say  that !  "  she  cried  j)iteously.  "  Don't  use 
your  power  over  me  so  cruelly.  Indeed,  it  is  for  your  sake, 
as  much  as  for  mine,  that  I  want  you  to  give  me  time.  To 
force  me  like  that  would  be  to  spoil  everything.  Let  things 
remain  as  they  are  for  a  little  bit  longer.  Don't  you  want 
me  to  be  fond  of  you,  too  ? " 

"  You  fond  of  me  !  "  he  repeated  incredulously.  "  Why, 
what  new  '  Midsummer  Night's '  miracle  would  you  tempt 
me  with,  Eila  ? " 

''  It  would  not  be  a  miracle  at  all,"  she  answered  earnest- 
ly. "  Already  I  could  worship  you  for  all  you  have  done 
for  the  family.  I  don't  care  whether  it  was  for  me  you  did 
it  or  not.  The  good  to  them  was  the  same.  It  would  not 
take  such  a  much  longer  time  before  I  was  ready  to  prove 
my  gratitude.  I  should  want  to  prove  it.  But  there  are 
things  one  cannot  do  all  of  a  sudden.  I  don't  know  why  I 
should  feel  so.  But  it  almost  seems  as  though  it  would  kill 
me,  if  you  refused  to  give  me  a  little  time." 

"You  could  not  plead  more  vehemently  if  you  were 
pleading  for  your  life,"  he  observed  with  a  touch  of 
bitterness. 

"  Oh,  but  you  frighten  me  so ! "  she  said  in  childishly 
quavering  accents,  "when  you  speak  as  you  did  a  few 
24 


364  NOT   COUNTING  THE   COST. 

minutes  ago ;  I  feel  then  as  thougli  there  were  nothing-  left 
to  appeal  to,  and  it  makes  me  desperate.  Besides  which  I 
am  really  tired.  So  many  ups  and  downs  do  tire  one  so." 
She  broke  off  to  wipe  her  eyes  apologetically,  and  continued : 
"  One  never  seems  to  be  able  to  think  properly  when  one  is 
so  upset — only  you  don't  want  to  make  me  afraid  of  you,  do 
you,  Hubert  ?  You  would  rather  it  was  out  of  gratitude  and 
trust,  and — and — fondness  than  for  any  other  reason  that  I 
was  willing  to  go  to  you  in  the  end  ?  It  would  be  all  so  dif- 
ferent then." 

She  stopped  short  once  more.  It  would  have  been  diffi- 
cult for  her  at  this  instant  to  define  the  limit  of  the  true  and 
the  false  in  her  appeal.  To  let  Hubert  escape  was  ruin, 
hopeless  and  irretrievable,  yet  her  soul  revolted  at  the 
notion  of  becoming  his  mistress.  Her  only  hope  of  salva- 
tion lay  in  gaining  time.  But  if  Hubei't  should  susj^ect  that 
there  was  a  hidden  motive  in  her  urgent  prayer  for  a  delay, 
he  would  be  merciless  in  the  conditions  he  imposed. 

No  condemned  criminal,  pleading  for  a  respite  at  the 
eleventh  hour,  could  have  attached  more  value  to  every 
moment  won  than  she.  Nor  were  her  prayers  entirely  in 
vain.  If  Hubert  had  sought  in  the  first  instance  to  storm 
the  citadel,  it  was  with  the  foregone  conclusion  that  it  would 
never  yield  to  pacific  measures.  But  upon  the  bare  possibility 
that  it  might  surrender  of  its  own  accord,  he  was  prepared  to 
be  generous  as  regarded  the  terms  of  tlie  capitulation. 

After  the  interview  was  over,  Eila  marvelled  at  the  craft 
with  which  she  had  conducted  her  own  defensive  opera- 
tions. Dissimulation  is  the  legitimate  arm  of  weakness,  but 
she  could  not  have  believed  that  it  was  in  her  to  handle  the 
unaccustomed  weapon  so  adroitly.  Looking  back  upon  the 
part  she  had  played,  it  seemed  as  though  Hubert  had  fallen 
into  the  trap  she  had  laid  for  him  with  a  naivete  worthy  of  a 
guileless  devil  of  mediasvl  legends,  who  is  represented  to  us  as 
continually  fooled  and  overreached  by  the  mortals  he  seeks 
to  ensnare.  The  trap  was  the  implied  possibility  that  she 
might  train  her  heart  to  surrender  itself  in  the  end,  provided 
due  time  was  allowed  her  for  the  operation.  This  point  con- 
ceded, the  limit  of  time  only  remained  to  be  fixed.     A  rapid 


EILA  IS  ASKED   TO   PAY   THE   COST.  355 

mental  calculation  of  the  space  in  which  a  letter  could  be 
sent  to  Tasmania  and  an  answer  received,  allowing  for  pos- 
sible delays  in  the  interval,  was  gone  tlirough  before  Eila 
pronounced  herself  upon  this  point.  But,  like  the  dealers 
who  demand  the  highest  price  for  their  wares  with  a  mental 
reserve  of  what  they  will  accept  as  the  lowest,  she  began 
reflectively : 

"  One  hears  of  very  long  engagements  sometimes,  doesn't 
one  ? " 

"  One  does  " — there  was  a  half-scornful,  half -amused  note 
in  Hubert's  assent — "  but  the  obstacles  are  not  supposed  to 
come  from  the  lovers  themselves.  In  our  case  there  is  no 
reason  why  the  date  of  our  unofficial  union  should  be  de- 
layed. You  shall  have  the  trousseau  of  a  princess  after,  in- 
stead of  before  the  ceremony." 

"  Oh,  don't  say  that,  please  !  "  she  protested  in  a  pained 
voice,  her  face  suffused  with  a  crimson  flush ;  then,  diffi- 
dently :  "  Are  you  so  tremendously  rich,  Hubert  ?  " 

He  laughed. 

"  What  would  you  say  if  I  told  you  I  had  Aladdin's  cave 
in  the  mountains  of  Australia  ?  It  is  true,  but  I  have  sworn 
that  no  living  person  shall  say  '  Open,  sesame '  to  it  save 
one.  So  far  I  have  only  opened  it  a  very  little  way.  When 
you  choose  to  use  the  magic  password,  you  may  tumble  out 
the  treasures  at  your  pleasure.  Tell  me,  Eila,  when  will 
you  give  me  the  joy  of  hearing  you  say  it  ? " 

She  was  silent.  Confused  thoughts  of  making  him  de- 
vote the  bulk  of  his  money  to  some  grand  philanthropic 
purpose,  refusing  all  but  a  modest  competence  for  herself 
and  her  belongings,  were  surging  up  in  her  mind.  Surely 
if  there  were  any  moral  blame  attached  to  the  selling  of 
herself,  the  blessing  of  thousands  of  her  unknown  fellow- 
creatures  must  help  to  condone  it. 

"  When  is  the  '  Open,  sesaijie  '  to  be  pronounced  ? "  he 
continued,  seeing  her  hesitate.  "  But  I  am  not  going  to 
urge  you  any  more  after  what  you  have  said,  though  to 
remain  here  in  this  state  of  uncertainty,  seeing  you  every 
day,  is  out  of  the  question.  I  will  leave  Paris  to-night " — 
he  saw  her  face  pale  with  a  sudden  apprehension — "  but 


366  NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

you  shall  have  my  address,  and  wherever  I  may  be,  you 
can  recall  me  by  a  word.  The  signal  I  told  you  of  will  be 
sufficient.  When  you  are  ready,  telegraph  those  two  words, 
'  Open,  sesame.'  I  shall  know  what  they  signify,  and  I  will 
come  at  once.  By  leaving  you  now  I  shall  be  giving  you 
the  best  proof  that  I  have  no  intention  of  taking  undue  ad- 
vantage of  the  situation,  as  you  accused  me  of  doing  a  few 
moments  ago.  Furthermore,  I  will  send  your  brother  home 
to  you,  and  leave  it  to  his  own  conscience  to  punish  him  for 
his  ingratitude  towards  me.  As  for  you,  Eila,  you  and 
your  belongings  will  only  be  in  the  position  in  which  I 
found  you — neither  better  nor  worse.  I  take  uiy  solemn 
oath  that  whenever  you  send  me  the  password  we  have 
settled  upon.  I  will  make  your  family  rich  for  the  remainder 
of  their  lives.  Meanwhile  let  there  be  no  mistake.  To 
write  to  me  would  be  useless.  I  will  not  answer  your  letters. 
There  is  only  one  summons  I  shall  answer,  and  that  will  be 
in  person.  I  shall  leave  for  London  to-night.  Telegraph  to 
me  at  the  Bank  of  New  South  Wales  when  you  are  ready  to 
enter  the  enchanted  cave.  Wherever  I  may  be,  your  mes- 
sage will  bring  me  to  you  instantly.  Should  I  die,  you  will 
be  informed  of  it.  And  now  good-bye  ;  you  will  neither  see 
me  nor  hear  of  me  again  unless  .  .  .  But  I  Avill  not  repeat 
what  I  said  just  now.  Yours  is  not  the  childish  intelligence 
to  which  repetition  brings  conviction.  You  know  that 
every  word  I  have  uttered  is  the  absolute  and  final  expres- 
sion of  what  I  feel  and  of  what  I  intend  to  do.  I  have 
given  you  your  password ;  it  only  remains  for  you  now  to 
use  it." 

"  But  why  need  you  go  at  all  ? "  urged  Eila,  in  a  low 
voice ;  "  you  cannot  say  it  is  my  fault  if  you  take  yourself 
away  from  us  like  that.  All  I  asked  for  was  time  to  think 
over  the  plan  you  proposed." 

She  brought  out  the  last  words  jerkily,  after  hesitating 
painfully  in  quest  of  them.  She  could  not  forget  that  Hu- 
bert's departure  would  mean  an  immediate  cutting-off  of 
supplies.  She  would  have  liked  to  persuade  him  to  remain 
until  she  had  found  at  least  a  solution  or  a  compromise,  or, 
rather,  until  such  time  as,  unknown  to  him,  she  had  com- 


EILA   IS  ASKED   TO   PAY  THE   COST.  307 

municated  with  Reginald  and  received  his  reply.  But  Hu- 
bert was  obdurate.  It  was  evident  that  he  intended  to  re- 
duce the  garrison  by  starvation,  having  failed  to  achieve  its 
capitulation  by  gentler  means.  The  shadow  of  the  Future 
seemed  already  to  loom  before  Eila  with  eyes  of  spectral 
hunger. 

"I  do  wish  you  would  not  go,"  she  i)leaded  once  niore, 
as  he  grimly  extended  his  hand  in  leave-taking.  "We 
shall  feel  so — so  lost  without  you." 

This  appeal  was  undoubtedly  genuine,  but  it  had  the 
contrary  effect  of  fortifying  the  person  to  whom  it  was 
made  in  his  resolution.  Hubert  was  not  acting  upon  the 
impulse  of  the  moment.  He  had  considered  deeply  the 
plan  of  action  into  which  his  departure  entered  as  a  conse- 
quence of  his  beautiful  cousin's  attitude.  In  his  own  mind 
he  did  not  give  her  many  weeks  to  hold  out  against  his 
abandonment  of  the  family.  The  most  impolitic  thing,  as 
it  seemed  to  him,  would  have  been  to  remain  by  her  side  at 
present.  As  long  as  lie  was  at  hand  and  she  could  be  sui^e 
of  obtaining  what  she  wanted  for  her  belongings — he  had 
long  ago  discovered  that  she  took  first  thought  for  them 
and  second  for  herself— she  would  find  a  thousand  pretexts 
for  delaying  to  give  him  a  definite  answer.  He  had  but 
small  faith  in  the  efficacy  of  personal  influence  in  his  own 
particular  case.  Propinquity,  which  Miss  Edgeworth  makes 
so  powerful  a  factor  in  the  bringing  about  of  marriages,  had 
been  given  a  fair  trial.  Absence,  and  the  withdrawal  of  all 
the  benefits  that  his  presence  conferred,  might  prove  more 
effective.  Let  the  beautiful  Bacchante  feel  for  a  second 
time  the  pinch  of  poverty,  let  her  find  herself  constrained 
once  more  to  apply  the  dieting  process  to  her  mother  and 
sisters,  and  it  would  not  be  long  before  the  cabalistic  words 
— so  meaningless  to  all  save  himself— would  summon  him 
back  to  her  side,  never,  please  Heaven,  or  the  other  place,  to 
leave  it  again. 

In  reply  to  Eila's  renewed  a])peal,  he  pulled  the  Rubens 
cloak  resolutely  over  his  shoulders,  throwing  the  long  fold 
over  the  hump  with  a  leftward  gesture  of  the  right  hand 
that  signified  resistance  unto  death.     In  vain  she  essayed  to 


368  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

make  him  listen  to  her  pleading.  He  cut  her  short  with  the 
same  inflexible  words : 

"You  know  my  conditions.  Nothing  can  alter  them. 
You  have  three  months  to  think  it  over." 

And  before  she  had  bethought  herself  of  recasting  her 
petition  in  another  form,  he  was  gone. 


CHAPTER  Xn. 

eila's  letter. 

While  Eila  moves  about  in  a  white  and  wintry  world, 
Hobart  is  basking  in  the  radiant  glow  of  an  Antipodean 
summer.  Mount  Wellington  wears  his  summer  robe  of 
purple-hued  velvet,  and  even  upon  the  topmost  peak  of  his 
lofty  head  no  trace  of  his  winter  crown  is  visible.  The  little 
Sandy  Bay  cottage  is  almost  hidden  under  the  trailing  em- 
brace of  roses,  convolvuli,  and  jessamine,  and  the  cherries 
hanging  in  XJi'ofusion  to  the  boughs  are  red  and  ripe  to 
bursting-j)oint. 

Upon  one  of  the  loveliest  of  these  lovely  summer  even- 
ings, Reginald  was  walking  up  and  down  the  gravelled  path 
of  the  cottage  garden  between  the  thyme-borders,  with  his 
dog  at  his  heels  and  his  pipe  between  his  lips.  Every  time 
he  turned  his  face  seawards  his  gaze  rested  upon  the  Queen 
of  the  South,  lying  in  dismantled  state  with  bare  masts 
against  the  Hobart  wharf.  He  bad  hardly  waited  for  the 
vessel  to  cast  anchor  before  he  had  boarded  her,  and  with 
the  aid  of  Eila's  ship-diary,  which  he  had  brought  with 
him  (quite  unnecessarily,  seeing  that  he  knew  every  word 
of  the  manuscript  by  heart),  had  reconstituted  the  voyage  of 
the  Clare  family  almost  day  by  day.  He  knew  the  exact 
spot  where  young  Mrs.  Frost  had  sat  at  table  by  the  side  of 
the  first  mate,  and  he  even  went  to  the  trouble  of  reversing 
the  swing-back  of  the  bench  in  order  that  he  might  intro- 
duce himself  into  the  identical  place  she  had  occupied.  By 
cross-examining  the  bo'suu  in  a  circuitous  fashion,  he  was 


EILA'S  LETTER.  369 

enabled  to  determine  in  the  same  way  the  portion  of  the 
bulwarks  upon  which  Eila  had  been  wont  to  perch  herself 
upon  nioonlig-ht  nig-hts  in  the  tropics.  But  most  joyful  dis- 
covery of  all,  upon  the  edge  of  the  rough  bunk  she  had  oc- 
cupied in  the  stern  cabin,  which  upon  the  present  voyage 
was  filled  up  with  a  consignment  of  sausage-machines  for  a 
hardware  dealer  in  Hobart,  he  found  a  capital  R  scratched 
with  the  point  of  a  pair  of  scissors  on  the  inner  side.  Eila 
had  told  him  in  her  diary  of  this  performance  of  hers,  per- 
petrated upon  a  day  when  the  heavy  seas  near  the  Horn  had 
well-nigh  swamped  the  Queen.  It  had  been  impossible,  she 
said,  to  keep  one's  feet,  and  the  cuddy  was  running  with 
water.  Against  the  ports  there  was  nothing  but  the  angry 
green  of  a  boiling  boisterous  sea  to  be  descried.  It  had  been 
too  dark  in  the  stern  cabins  to  read,  and  it  was  bitterly,  bit- 
terly cold.  Eila  confessed  that  her  thoughts  had  wandered 
miserably  enough  in  the  direction  of  the  octagonal  blue 
bottle  ;  and  that  to  give  herself  courage  she  had  traced  with 
infinite  pains  the  first  letter  of  Reginald's  name  as  she  lay 
prostrate  in  her  berth.  He  had  never  thought  to  find  the 
precious  memento.  It  was  more  than  probable,  he  told 
himself,  that  it  had  been  painted  out  when  the  Queen  was 
overhauled  previous  to  her  departure  for  Tasmania.  But 
there  it  was,  and  when,  after  displacing  the  sausage-ma- 
chines without  regard  to  the  consequences,  the  young  man 
discovered  it,  in  the  exact  place  that  had  been  described  to 
him,  he  committed  the  extravagance  of  hoisting  himself  on 
the  berth  for  the  sole  purpose  of  pressing  his  lips  to  it.  He 
would  have  liked,  had  he  dared,  to  cut  out  the  piece  of 
planking  upon  which  the  R  was  traced  and  to  carry  it  away 
with  him.  But  no  pretext  for  performing  this  act  of  muti- 
lation occurring,  he  was  obliged  to  leave  it  behind  in  the 
unsympathetic  neighbourhood  of  the  sausage-machines ; 
only  the  ship's  carpenter  reaped  the  benefit  of  the  discovery 
in  the  shape  of  an  unexpectedly  munificent  tip. 

Seawards,  then,  he  beheld  the  Queen  from  the  garden  this 
evening,  and  the  Queen  meant  Eila,  and  Eila  alone.  On 
the  land  side,  as  he  paced  backwards  and  forwards,  he  saw 
the  mountain,  and  the  mountain  signified  Eila,  and  none 


370  NOT   COUNTING   THE   COST. 

but  Eila.  The  mountain  and  the  sea,  the  whole  universe, 
indeed,  was  full  of  her  presence.  Yet  what  reward  could  he 
hope  to  reap  from  his  constancy  ?  The  more  he  clung  to 
Eila's  image,  the  more  he  cherished  it,  the  deeper  the  iron 
entered  his  soul.  He  would  not  have  forfeited  his  love  for 
all  the  gold  of  the  Australias ;  but  so  far,  instead  of  bringing 
him  any  happiness,  it  was  the  cause  of  a  perpetual  and  heart- 
corroding  anxiety.  More  than  ever  was  he  anxious  now,  for 
the  news  of  the  total  failure  of  the  insurance  company,  on 
which  the  Clare  family  depended  for  their  sole  means  of 
living,  had  been  confirmed  only  that  very  day.  Plitherto  he 
had  hoped  that  something  might  be  saved  from  the  wreck 
for  the  families  of  the  shareholders,  and  it  was  rather  with  a 
view  to  helping  his  friends  in  Paris  to  tide  over  the  evil  day 
occasioned  by  a  teinporary  stoppage  of  supjilies,  than  in  the 
fear  of  their  being  left  literally  without  a  iseniiy,  that  he 
had  sent  fi^fty  pounds  to  Eila  some  three  months  ago.  But 
now  the  disastrous  certainty  of  their  being  left  without  any 
resources  of  their  own  was  placed  beyond  a  doubt,  and  Regi- 
nald was  in  no  enviable  frame  of  mind  as  he  walked  to  and 
fro  in  the  little  thyme-scented  garden.  He  could  have  cursed 
his  poverty  that  kept  him  chained  like  some  worn-out  old 
steed  to  the  same  jog-trot  round  of  daily  duties,  and  that 
prevented  him  from  rushing  aci^oss  the  world  to  succour  his 
love.  Had  it  not  been  for  his  mother,  he  would  have  thrown 
up  his  employment  ujjon  the  spot,  placed  the  few  hundred 
pounds  he  possessed  in  his  pocket-book,  and  gone  to  Paris  to 
pour  them  at  Eila's  feet.  He  felt  as  though  he  would  have 
found  the  strength  to  rescue  the  whole  family  for  her  sake. 
They  sorely  needed  a  man  with  a  practical  head  to  take 
charge  of  them.  He  would  have  found  an  ally  in  Willie, 
the  only  one  of  the  Clares  whom  he  was  inclined  to  credit 
with  an  ounce  of  commonsense,  and  Dick  should  have  been 
made  to  work,  if  only  as  a  house-painter.  Reginald  himself 
would  have  been  responsible  for  the  well-being  of  the  rest, 
and  it  would  have  gone  hardly  with  him,  he  thought,  if  he 
had  not  found  the  means  of  keeping  a  decent  roof  over  their 
heads.  What  they  would  do  now.  Heaven  only  knew.  His 
fi.fty  pounds  had  probably  saved  them  from  going  under 


EILA'S  LETTER.  37I 

completely,  but  the  little  fund  would  soon  be  exhausted,  and 
then  what  was  to  become  of  them  ?  He  was  earning  himself 
a  salary  of  some  four  hundred  a  year,  and  the  greater  por- 
tion of  it  was  devoted  to  the  sustenance  of  a  paralyzed 
mother.  Old  Mrs.  Acton  required  a  special  attendant  of  her 
own.  It  had  also  been  Reginald's  delight  to  surround  her 
with  every  imaginable  comfort  he  could  devise  for  her.  No 
empress  could  have  had  a  softer  couch  or  choicer  wines.  All 
the  appliances  that  modern  science  has  invented  for  giving 
a  poor  helpless  body  the  delusion  of  being  independent  were 
purchased  by  him  almost  as  soon  as  they  appeared.  The 
cottage  spare-room  was  filled  with  automatic  couches  and 
reading-tables  that  had  been  supplanted  one  after  the  other 
by  still  later  patented  contrivances.  A  happy  old  lady  was 
Mrs.  Acton,  despite  her  helpless  limbs,  for  she  lived  in  the 
belief  that  she  occupied  the  first  place  in  the  heart  of  the  best 
of  sons.  It  was  certain  that  her  dependence  upon  him  had 
intensified  his  filial  tenderness.  Constant  contact  with  suf- 
fering and  weakness  acts  upon  diiferent  natures  in  very  dif- 
ferent ways.  Some  grow  indifferent  and  callous ;  others 
(and  these  are  not  necessarily  the  most  unfeeling)  become 
irritated  and  resentful.  It  is  only  a  few  rare  natures  that 
are  able  to  remain  constantly  pitying  and  patient,  and  to 
remember  that,  if  we  can  grow  used  to  witnessing  pain,  it 
does  not  follow  that  the  sufferers  get  used  to  feeling  it. 
Reginald's  was  one  of  these  rare  natures.  A  sentiment  that 
had  once  found  place  in  his  heart  remained  unchanged  to 
the  end.  It  is  to  be  supposed  that  his  antipathies  were  as 
steadfast  as  his  sympathies,  though  he  found  but  rarely  the 
occasion  for  manifesting  them.  As  he  continued  to  walk  up 
and  down  the  thyme-bordered  path  turning  the  question  of 
Eila's  situation  over  in  his  mind,  and  pondering  ways  and 
means  of  helping  her,  the  postman  handed  him  a  letter  over 
the  garden  fence.  Even  before  he  felt  it  in  his  hands  he  knew 
whence  it  came ;  these  Paris  missives  did  not  arrive  very  regu- 
larly, though  he  would  continue  to  hope  against  hope  when- 
ever mail-day  came  round.  His  heart  throbbed  now  with 
an  anticipation  that  was  almost  painful  as  he  carried  off  his 
prize  to  the  farthest  extremity  of  the  gai'den,  like  a  dog  with 


372  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

his  bone,  before  examining  the  contents.  Despite  all  his 
philosophy,  it  jarred  upon  his  nerves  to  be  spoken  to  by 
anyone  whomsoever  when  he  was  reading  one  of  his  Paris 
letters.  Habitually  he  skimmed  through  them  rapidly  at  a 
fu-st  reading,  and  it  was  almost  a  matter  of  regret  to  him 
that  Eila  wrote  so  clear  a  hand,  for  it  deprived  him  of  the 
pleasure  of  prolonging  this  preliminary  examination.  The 
next  reading  was  more  deliberate.  Phrases  were  studied 
with  reference  to  what  was  left  unsaid  as  well  as  to  what 
was  said.  The  next  perusal,  and  the  next — Reginald  could 
not  have  told  you  how  many  nexts — suggested  numberless 
questions  he  would  have  to  ask  the  writer  when  he  came  to 
answer  her  letter.  Upon  the  present  occasion  it  was  a  satis- 
faction to  feel  even  before  he  opened  it  that  the  envelope 
was  more  than  usually  thick.  Eila  had  already  acknowl- 
edged the  arrival  of  his  fifty  pounds  with  grateful  outpour- 
ings that  had  moved  and  pained  him  as  he  read  them,  and 
this  time  she  would  possibly  have  something  more  to  tell 
him  about  the  mysterious  hunchback  cousin,  whose  dis- 
covery she  had  narrated  in  one  of  her  former  letters.  He 
leaned  against  the  trunk  of  a  walnut-tree,  surrounded  by  a 
screen  of  currant-bushes,  and  pulling  his  wideawake  over 
his  eyes,  and  sticking  his  pij)e  in  a  branch — he  could  not 
have  committed  the  sacrilege  of  approaching  a  pipe  to  Eila's 
letter — j)roceeded  to  read  as  follows : 

"Dear  Reginald"  (sometimes  it  was  "Dear  Friend  "), 
"  I  am  going  to  write  you  the  most  curious  letter  a 
woman  ever  wrote  to  the  man  who  cared  for  her,  as  I  know 
and  feel  you  do  for  me.  From  one  point  of  view  it  will  al- 
most make  you  inclined  to  look  upon  me  as  a  monster,  but 
indeed  I  am  the  same  Eila  you  knew  at  Cowa,  the  same 
about  whom  you  said  once  that  nothing  she  might  do  would 
take  you  very  much  by  surprise — you  remember  saying  that, 
don't  you  ?  The  same,  too,  from  whom  you  exacted  a 
solemn  promise  that,  in  consideration  of  your  love  for  her, 
she  would  tell  you  the  truth,  the  whole  truth,  and  nothing 
but  the  truth,  about  herself,  no  matter  what  it  might  be." 


EILA'S  LETTER.  373 

At  this  point  in  his  reading'  it  behoved  Reginald  to  sum- 
mon all  his  resolution.  The  di*ead  of  what  was  to  come  was 
so  great  that  a  mist  seemed  to  hide  the  characters  from  his 
eyes.  His  fingers  were  trembling.  He  closed  them  fiercely 
round  the  paper  and  read  on  : 

"  Furthermore,  that  she  would  let  nothing  important 
happen  in  her  life,  and  make  no  change  in  it  of  her  own 
accord,  without  giving  you  due  warning,  and  waiting  to 
hear  what  you  might  have  to  say  about  it  first." 

The  mist  cleared  away,  and  the  reader  gave  unconscious 
vent  to  a  profound  sigh  of  relief.  Let  her  say  her  worst 
now.  He  could  bi'ace  himself  to  hear  it.  There  was  time 
still,  for  she  had  kei^t  her  promise  to  him,  and  he  blessed 
her  for  it  in  his  heart.     The  letter  went  on  : 

"I  hardly  know  how  to  put  into  words  the  step  I  con- 
template taking,  or,  rather,  the  fate  that  is  hanging  over 
me :  for  when  I  try  to  put  it  down  in  cold  blood  I  seem  to 
realize  exactly  the  horror  my  conduct  would  inspire  in  other 
people.  To  say  that  I  feel  it  is  inevitable,  and  to  resign  my- 
self to  it  beforehand,  almost  looks  as  though  I  were  conniv- 
ing at  it,  but  indeed  this  is  not  so.  It  is  simply  that  I  can-^ 
not  help  myself.  Of  course  I  could  escape  my  fate  if  I 
chose,  but  it  would  be  at  the  cost  of  sacrificing  five  persons 
to  one ;  or,  to  speak  the  sti-ict  truth,  four  persons,  for  Willie 
can  manage  to  keep  his  head  above  water  in  a  way.  Those 
four  persons  are  my  mother,  and  Mamy,  and  Dick,  and 
Truca,  and  when  I  have  told  you  this  you  will  be  prepared 
to  understand  a  little  better  how  it  is  that  I  shall  be  able  to 
bring  myself  to  accept  the  fate  that  is  in  store  for  me,  with- 
out counting  the  cost.  It  is  dreadful  to  be  at  such  a  dis- 
tance from  you,  for  I  feel  that  I  am  tormenting  you  all  this 
time  by  not  coming  to  the  point,  and  yet  I  can't  summon 
up  the  courage  to  make  my  confession  to  you  before  I  have 
put  down  all  the  extenuating  circumstances." 

Reginald's  face  grew  grim  again  at  this  point.  He  was 
preparing  to  read  eagerly  on,  when  the  sound  of  his  mother's 


374:  NOT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

voice,  faintly  calliiig  to  him  from  lier  bath-chair,  which  she 
had  caused  to  be  wheeled  in  his  vicinity,  reached  his  hiding- 
place. 

"Reginald!  Reginald!"  it  said,  with  mild  persistency. 
"  I  shall  say  to  you,  like  the  rude  boy  in  Punch,  '  Is  it  from 
Frederic,  or  Frederica,  my  dear  ? '  I  never  knew  you  so 
absorbed  in  a  letter  before.  I  want  you  to  wheel  me  round 
to  the  kitchen  door,  if  you  please.  If  I  don't  warn  Mary 
once  more  about  putting  your  new  merino  vests  into  hot 
watei*,  she  will  make  them  quite  unwearable,  just  as  she  did 
the  last." 

Reginald  came  forward  mechanically.  There  was  an  ex- 
pression of  such  intense  and  suffering  abstraction  in  his 
clouded  blue  eyes  that  even  his  mother,  who  had  come  to 
believe  that  she  possessed  the  sole  monopoly  of  exciting  the 
sympathy  of  people  who  had  the  use  of  their  limbs,  could 
not  fail  to  notice  it. 

"Tell  me  what  has  happened,  Reginald,"  she  cried,  in  a 
tone  of  alarmed  curiosity,  eyeing  the  letter  suspiciously. 

"  Happened  ?  Nothing  !  "  He  smiled  down  at  her  with 
an  effort,  thrusting  the  letter  into  his  pocket  as  he  spoke. 
"  Let  us  go  and  save  the  merino  vests  while  there  is  time." 

But  after  he  had  wheeled  the  bath-chair  to  the  kitchen 
door  he  found  means  to  slip  aAvay  without  taking  part  in 
the  discussion  ujjon  the  merino  vests  after  all,  for  when 
Mrs.  Acton  looked  round  to  appeal  to  him,  it  was  the  sedate 
face  of  the  attendant,  and  not  her  son's  blue  eyes,  that  an- 
swered her  inquiring  glance. 

The  invalid  shivered,  though  the  evening  was  very 
warm.  It  was  not  to  be  wondered  at,  perhaps,  that  a  young 
man  should  occasionally  find  the  company  of  a  paralytic 
old  woman  somewhat  tedious,  even  though  the  latter  should 
be  his  mother.  But  if  the  writer  of  the  letter  he  had  been 
reading  was  able  to  make  him  happier  than  she  could,  why 
had  he  worn  so  pained  an  expression  when  he  looked  up 
from  reading  it,  and  why  did  he  exclude  his  mother  from 
his  confidence  ? 

Old  Mrs.  Acton  would  not  have  asked  this  question  twice 
if  she  had  been  able  to  look  over  her  son's  shoulder  as  he 


EILA'S  LETTER.  375 

continued  to  peruse  Eila's  missive.  I  doubt,  however, 
whether  she  would  have  read  on  after  she  had  reached  the 
point  he  had  come  to,  and  especially  after  a  comprehension 
of  the  significance  of  the  communication  had  dawned  upon 
her.  It  is  more  likely  she  would  have  drawn  the  letter 
from  her  son's  hands,  and  adjured  him,  as  he  valued  his 
soul,  to  cease  all  intercourse  with  so  utterly  depraved  a 
creature  as  the  writer.  She  would  not  have  understood,  in- 
deed, how  depravity  could  go  to  the  length  of  pleading  its 
own  cause  in  so  shameless  a  fashion. 

But  she  never  knew  what  the  mysterious  epistle  con- 
tained, for  the  reason  that  Reginald  carried  it  beyond  the 
walnut-tree  this  time.  He  carried  it  as  far  out  of  reach  of 
his  mother's  voice  as  possible,  to  the  lane  behind  the  house, 
and  it  was  only  when  he  was  out  of  sight  and  hearing  of 
the  inmates  that  he  drew  it  from  his  pocket  once  more.  No 
one  being  in  view,  he  walked  slowly  on,  reading  as  he  went, 
and  overwhelmed  by  the  unconscious  cruelty  of  the  con- 
tents. 

Eila  could  not  bear  to  inflict  pain.  Yet  her  manner  of 
beating  about  the  bush  before  imparting  the  tidings  at  which 
she  had  hinted  in  the  beginning  of  her  letter  was  like  tor- 
turing a  i^atient  with  pi'ods  of  the  lancet  before  perform- 
ing an  operation  upon  him.  His  apprehensions  increased 
with  every  line.  He  felt  as  though  he  were  being  dragged 
along  the  edge  of  a  precipice  before  being  hurled  over  it  to 
(bottomless)  perdition.  "Why  cannot  she  come  to  the 
point  ? "  he  said  to  himself  resentfully  ;  and  he  remembered 
the  nick-names  of  "Jesuit"  and  "special  pleader"  that  he 
had  heard  api^lied  to  her  by  her  brothers  and  sisters  at  Cowa. 
She  had  always  been  a  casuist.  He  remembered  her  telling 
him  that  when  she  was  a  child  she  had  liked  to  take  sides 
against  herself  with  reference  to  every  point  she  held  for 
truth,  and  how  it  had  often  happened  that  the  assumed 
opiDonent  had  been  too  strong  for  her,  and  that  she  had  been 
obliged  to  leave  untied  the  knot  she  had  herself  woven. 
She  had  also  told  him  how  she  had  discovered  at  a  very 
early  age  that  the  frequent  repetition  of  the  same  word  will 
convert  it  into  sound  without  sense,  and  how  the  discovery 


376  NOT   COUNTING  THE   COST. 

had  tempted  her  to  make  experiments  that  were  not  quite 
fair  in  her  arguments  with  the  family,  and  to  entangle  them 
in  a  mesh  of  words  when  she  found  she  was  losing  the  day. 
But  surely  she  need  not  have  had  recourse  to  such  a  subter- 
fuge in  writing  to  him.  He  loved  her.  Was  not  that 
enough  ?  She  might  tell  him  she  had  broken  all  the  Com- 
mandments in  a  string.  He  must  go  on  loving  her  in  spite 
of  all.  Some  men  will  love  a  woman  for  her  beauty  ;  others 
for  her  virtue ;  others  for  some  abstract  qualities  which 
they  find  incorporated  in  her.  Reginald  loved  in  quite  an- 
other fashion.  No  matter  what  might  befall  her,  she  would 
always  be  the  same  for  him.  If  she  should  lose  herself  in 
the  world's  estimation,  he  would  hate  and  execrate  the  evil 
chance  or  the  weakness  that  had  proved  her  undoing.  But 
nothing  could  sully  the  image  he  cherished  of  her  in  his 
heart.  But  it  was  cruel  of  her  to  inflict  this  long  preamble 
upon  him.  The  sooner  he  knew  what  fatal  step  she  was 
contemijlating,  the  sooner  he  could  devise  a  way  of  saving 
her  from  it.  And  she  ought  to  have  taken  this  into  consid- 
eration when  she  wrote.  The  letter  continued  from  the  part 
where  he  had  broken  ofl' : 

"  I  wish  you  could  be  more  reasonable  about  me,  Regi- 
nald ;  it  is  the  exaggerated  kind  of  value  you  set  upon  me 
that  makes  it  so  difficult  for  me  to  tell  you  the  particular 
kind  of  way  in  which  I  should  have  to  sacrifice  niyself.  If 
you  did  not  feel  about  me  as  you  do,  I  am  sure  I  should 
think  much  less  of  the  matter  myself.  I  should  try  to  re- 
member the  principle  of  the  political  economists,  that  the 
chief  thing  to  be  considered  is  the  greatest  happiness  of  the 
greatest  numl:)er,  and  that  for  one  person  out  of  six  to  come 
to  grief,  or  what  the  world  calls  coming  to  grief,  really  mat- 
tei'S  very  little  if  all  the  rest  are  saved." 

"  You  see,  it  is  on  your  account  much  more  than  on  my 
own  that  I  am  so  troubled.  As  far  as  my  own  feelings  are 
concerned,  I  have  really  almost  reasoned  them  into  subjec- 
tion. The  experience  we  went  thi'ough  some  months  ago 
taught  me  a  lesson  I  shall  never  forget.  I  would  not  tell 
you  about  it  then,  for  you  were  too  far  away  to  help  us,  and 


EILA'S  LETTER.  37Y 

it  could  only  have  given  you  pain.  But  all  our  money  was 
spent.  Mother  was  ill,  and  I  realized  the  horror  of  feeling 
that  we  might  not  know  where  to  turn  for  bread  in  a  few 
days,  and  that  we  should  have  to  go  tlu'ough  the  degrada- 
tion of  begging  for  assistance  (though  I  don't  know  whei*e 
we  could  have  applied  for  it).  It  was  so  awful  that  I  cannot 
look  back  u]3on  it  now  without  shuddering.  That  time  is 
like  a  black  nightmare  in  my  memory,  and  it  was  worse  for 
me  than  for  the  others,  because  I  did  not  let  them  know 
quite  how  bad  things  were.  I  made  uj)  my  mind  then  that 
rather  than  go  through  such  an  experience  again,  or  see 
Truca  go  to  bed  with  the  pinched,  hungry  look  I  saw  once 
in  her  face,  I  would  sell  myself.  After  writing  down  these 
two  words  I  have  prepared  you  for  the  worst,  and  now  you 
will  be  able  to  nerve  yourself  to  hear  me  to  the  end,  espe- 
cially as  I  give  you  my  solemn  word  of  honour  that  I  am 
referring  to  the  future  and  not  to  the  past,  that  I  have  taken 
no  irretrievable  stej)  so  far,  and  that  I  mean  to  keep  my 
promise  of  telling  you  everything — beforehand." 

The  evening,  as  I  have  said,  was  very  warm.  The  sun 
shone  redly  on  the  waters  of  the  harbour  as  upon  the  night 
when  Reginald  had  made  Eila  tm^n  round  to  behold  the 
glories  of  the  sunset  sky  from  the  rugged  heights  of  Knock- 
lofty.  Yet  as  he  read  this  paragraph  to  the  end  the  young 
man  shuddered  as  though  the  chill  of  winter  had  descended 
upon  him.  Was  it  too  late  ?  Was  the  long  preamble  but  a 
slow  prei)aration  for  the  inevitable  fall  of  which  an  ensuing 
letter  wovild  bring  him  the  hideous  details  ?  If  this  were 
so !  If  it  were  indeed  too  late  !  But  it  could  not  be  too  late. 
Had  she  not  given  him  her  word  of  honour  in  this  very  let- 
ter that  she  was  the  same  Eila  he  loved  and  trusted,  the 
same  who  had  bound  herself  by  a  solemn  promise  to  make 
no  change  in  her  life  without  consulting  him  ?  But  the 
letter  was  written  six  weeks  ago,  and  the  writer  had  evi- 
dently been  skirting  the  i^recipice  when  she  wrote.  She 
could  not  have  approached  much  nearer  without  falling 
over  altogether.  But  surely  such  a  sacrilege  could  never 
have  been  permitted ;  the  pity  of  it  would  have  been  too 


378  NOT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

tremendous.  Eila,  with  all  her  beauty,  her  youth,  her  power, 
and  her  purity — her  generous  instincts,  and  her  love  for  her 
belongings — to  seek  her  place  voluntarily  among  the  out- 
casts of  her  sex !  To  ruin  and  degrade  herself  beyond  re- 
demption in  the  zenith  of  her  sweetness  and  charm !  A 
curse  uj)on  her  exaggerated  solicitude  for  her  family  !  She 
had  always  carried  it  to  a  point  that  bordered  ujjon  insanity. 
Curses,  too,  upon  her  cheai)  estimation  of  herself  and  her 
attractions!  What  inexplicable  delusion  made  her  act  as 
though  her  sole  mission  in  life  were  to  gi'ovel  in  the  dust 
and  mud  in  order  that  her  family  might  walk  clean-shod 
over  her  body  ?  If  the  hideous  sacrifice  should  have  been 
accomplished,  the  world  would  suppose  she  had  bargained 
herself  away  for  her  own  profit.  None  but  he  would  know 
how  in  truth  she  had  but  one  object  in  view,  and  that  object 
was  her  family.  But  she  had  brothers.  If  they  possessed 
the  least  simrk  of  manhood  among  them,  they  would  not 
suffer  their  sister  to  go  to  her  destruction.  Ought  not  two 
strong  lads  to  be  capable  of  working  for  their  mother  and 
sisters  ?  But  the  vision  of  Dick  in  his  sandals  rose  before 
Reginald's  mind  at  this  moment,  and  his  discouragement 
returned  afresh.  He  could  not  take  comfort  in  the  hope 
that  Dick  would  be  a  staff  to  lean  upon  in  the  time  of  trouble, 
and  it  was  with  a  sinking  heart  that  he  resumed  once  more 
the  reading  of  his  letter  : 

"  You  have  not  forgotten  the  story  I  told  you  that  night 
upon  Mount  Knocklofty  about  our  cousin  Hubert  de  Merle, 
and  the  ruby  that  ought  to  have  belonged  to  mother  which 
he  had  in  his  possession  ?  I  know  you  looked  upon  him  as 
a  mythical  personage,  and  tliough  you  did  not  say  it  in  so 
many  words,  I  could  guess  from  your  tone  that  you  thought 
we  must  be  mad  to  expect  to  find  him  in  Europe.  Well,  we 
have  found  him,  and  though  nothing  has  been  said  about 
the  ruby,  he  has  taken  us  under  his  protection.  From  the 
day  that  he  first  came  to  visit  us.  the  cloud  of  poverty  has 
been  lifted  from  our  lives.  We  have  had  all  the  comforts 
and  luxui'ies  that  rich  people  enjoy,  and  oh  !  Reginald,  if 
you  could  know  what  it  means  to  be  poor  and  hungry  in  a 


EI  LA'S  LETTER.  370 

place  like  Paris,  to  be  afraid  to  stir  out  of  doors  because 
your  clothes  are  shabby,  and  to  have  people  treat  you  almost 
as  though  you  were  a  criminal,  you  would  not  wonder  at 
our  appreciating  the  difference  in  our  position  now.  The 
thought  of  going  back  to  our  former  misery  is  the  night- 
mai'e  of  my  life.  I  need  not  say  it  is  not  for  myself  that  I 
mind.  You  know  me  well  enough  to  be  sure  of  it  even 
without  my  telling  you.  You  know  that  if  I  were  alone 
in  the  world  I  would  turn  nurse  or  parlourmaid  (I  should 
not  be  fit  for  much  else),  and  make  a  resiDCctable  liveli- 
hood. But  no ;  I  think  I  would  come  straight  to  you,  and 
we  would  go  off  somewhere  into  the  wilds,  out  of  the 
reach  of  Mrs.  Grundy,  and  build  ourselves  a  little  hut,  and 
earn  the  right  to  live  by  the  sweat  of  our  brow." 

A  sudden  flush  suffused  Reginald's  face  as  he  read  these 
words.  One  cannot  wish  for  the  demise  Qf  an  entire  family 
without  being  a  kind  of  potential  Tropmann,  but  there  is  no 
crime  in  wishing  that  they  might  never  have  existed,  and 
if  the  desire  of  Reginald's  heart  could  have  been  realized  at 
this  moment,  the  writer  of  the  letter  he  held  in  his  hands 
would  have  been  a  foundling. 

"But  I  am  not  alone,''  Eila  continued,  "and  my  one 
thought  night  and  day  is  how  to  place  the  others  out  of  the 
reach  of  want.  Coming  to  Europe  " — Reginald  noticed  she 
no  longer  spoke  of  coming  "home" — "has  taught  me  a 
great  many  things.  It  has  shown  me  that  we  are  really 
worth  nothing  as  a  family  in  the  world,  excepting  to  each 
other.  We  have  no  kind  of  marketable  accomplishments 
or  qualities.  From  what  I  have  seen  here  of  the  struggle 
for  life,  one  must  have  a  talent  for  some  particular  kind  of 
profession,  or  else  one  must  remain  among  the  unskilled  on 
the  lowest  rung  of  the  ladder.  It  is  almost  impossible  to 
make  a  living  if  one  has  no  vocation.  Besides,  it  would 
kill  my  mother,  or  Mamy,  or  Truca,  to  be  put  to  any  sort  of 
drudgery,  even  if  they  were  capable  of  performing  it.  They 
do  not  need  much  to  live  upon,  but  what  they  have  must  be 
something  they  can  depend  upon,  and  it  must  leave  them 
25 


380  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

free  to  go  out  and  come  in  as  they  choose,  and  to  l)e  at  no- 
body's bidding.  Then  Dick  may  have  to  practise  his  art  for 
many  years  (and  he  is  not  even  at  the  beginning-  of  it)  be- 
fore he  can  hope  to  keep  himself.  You  see  now  what  our 
position  is.  The  one  thing  we  had  to  reckon  upon,  namely, 
the  sum  paid  us  by  the  insurance  company  during  mother's 
lifetime,  is  gone.  Even  while  we  had  it  we  could  not  man- 
age to  keep  our  heads  above  water,  but  now  we  should  be 
literally  beggars  without  our  cousin.  Your  munificent  and 
generous  gift"  (Reginald  winced  as  he  read  these  gTandilo- 
quent  words)  "  would  have  been  our  salvation  under  other  cir- 
cumstances, but  we  should  have  come  to  the  end  of  it  in  time. 
(Even  as  it  is  I  am  troubled  by  the  thought  that  you  may  have 
deprived  yoiu'self  of  many  things  that  are  really  necessary.) 
And  when  that  money  was  spent,  what  was  to  become  of  us  ? 
The  future  lay  black  before  us.  like  the  coal-hole  in  infinite 
space  we  used  to  look  up  at  in  the  Hobart  sky.  We  had  no 
plans  and  no  prospects.  The  most  likely  thing  to  happen  to 
us  was  that  the  family  would  be  broken  up,  and  that  each 
one  would  make  an  attempt  to  earn  a  miserable  livelihood 
alone.  But  we  are  all  so  awfully  unfitted  for  regular  or 
constant  work  of  any  kind.  I  could  see  only  one  means  of 
salvation,  and  that  was  in  Mamy's  marriage  with  Sydney 
Warden.  But  Mamy  is  without  pity.  Sydney  is  not  of  age, 
and  when  his  mother  came  to  find  we  were  utter  paupers, 
standing  on  the  brink  of  beggary,  she  would  naturally  do 
her  utmost  to  prevent  the  marriage.  Now  you  understand 
just  how  we  would  be  situated  if  it  were  not  for  our 
cousin.  Without  his  making  any  kind  of  definite  proposals 
or  arrangement,  and  simply  upon  the  grounds  of  his  being 
a  connection  and  apparently  very  rich,  it  seems  to  have  been 
taken  for  granted  that  we  are  to  let  him  spend  a  small  fortune 
upon  us  every  day,  take  us  to  dine  at  grand  restaurants,  treat 
us  to  the  theatre,  make  us  drive  out  with  him  in  a  splendid 
carriage,  and  send  us  presents  of  money  for  clothes.  This 
condition  of  affairs  has  lasted  for  some  months.  Poor  moth- 
er quite  believes  that  it  is  a  tacit  recognition  on  Hubert  de 
Merle's  part  of  the  claims  we  have  on  the  ruby.  But  he  has 
spent  the  price  of  a  hundred  rubies  on  us  already,  whatever 


EILA'S  LETTER.  381 

motlier  may  say  to  the  contrary,  and  now  he  proposes  taking 
us  all  for  a  grand  tour  through  Europe.  The  others  are  he- 
side  themselves  with  delight.  We  wei-e  already  making  our 
preparations,  when  the  awful  news  of  the  crush  of  the  insur- 
ance comiiany  reached  me,  with  your  beautiful  telegram  and 
present,  and  I  have  been  coward  enough  to  say  nothing  of 
it  yet  to  the  vest.  It  would  be  too  awful  a  wet-blanket  in 
the  midst  of  their  joy.  But  the  thought  is  ever  present  with 
me,  that  we  are  walking  over  the  thin  crust  of  a  volcano. 
We  have  no  earthly  claims  upon  our  cousin.  Even  our 
imaginary  claims  have  been  paid,  and  more  than  paid.  Sup- 
posing he  should  suddenly  tire  of  us,  and  turn  his  back  upon 
us !  I  do  believe  in  that  case  there  would  be  nothing  but 
the  octagonal  blue  bottle  to  fly  to.  But  no !  I  don't  quite 
mean  that.  I  can  see  your  vexed  look  even  while  I  write 
the  words.  But  you  will  admit  that  our  position  would  be 
as  bad  as  it  could  be. 

"  Now,  Reginald,  I  have  been  making  this  long  explana- 
tion for  no  other  purpose  than  to  lead  up  to  the  conclusion 
which  I  have  already  hinted  at  in  the  beginning  of  my  let- 
ter. It  is  given  to  me  to  be  able  to  save  the  others,  and  to 
put  them  out  of  the  reach  of  want  once  and  for  ever.  I  have 
had  a  presentiment  of  this  all  along,  and  now  I  have  the  cer- 
tainty of  it.  Our  cousin  is  not  a  Don  Quixote.  Neither  has 
he  taken  such  a  fancy  to  the  family  all  round  as  to  feel  that 
he  must  provide  for  us  all  to  the  end  of  our  lives.  He  is 
what  I  vaguely  suspected  him  to  be  from  the  beginning,  a 
man  with  a  fixed  and  unswerving  purpose,  to  gain  which  he 
would  sacrifice  not  one  poor  fan^ily  alone,  but  the  whole 
world,  if  it  were  in  his  power  to  do  so,  and  if  it  could  further 
the  object  he  had  in  view. 

"  It  is  awfully  difficult  for  me  to  tell  you  the  price  he  de- 
mands for  saving  the  family  from  poverty.  More  difficult 
in  one  way  to  tell  you  than  any  other  person  in  the  world, 
although  you  are  so  pitiful  and  understanding,  and  al- 
though, strangely  enough,  being  my  father  confessor,  you 
are  the  only  living  soul,  save  myself  and  the  partner  of  my 
guilt  (for  that  is  the  way  in  which  it  must  be  expressed), 
who  will  know  anything  about  the  matter.     But  I  am  telling 


382  NOT   COUNTING   THE   COST. 

you  without  tolling  you,  and  oh,  Reginald,  do  keep  your  pity 
and  some  little  affection  for  me  in  spite  of  all.  I  shall  be 
driven  to  accept  my  fate,  because  there  will  be  no  help  for  it. 
There  is  no  way  out  of  it,  whichever  way  I  look.  Why  is 
life  made  so  hard  for  us  ?  I  do  desire  to  walk  along  a 
straight  path  with  all  my  heart,  but  things  have  been  so 
dreadfully  against  us  from  the  beginning.  How  can  I  let 
my  mother  and  Mamy  and  Truca  suiter  cold  and  hunger  ? 
If  I  were  not  married,  and  Hubert  were  to  propose  to  marry 
me  (and  you  may  believe  on  my  sacred  word  of  honour  that 
this  is  the  solution  he  would  offer  if  I  were  free),  I  would 
not  be  looked  upon  as  a  depraved  woman  for  accepting  his 
offer,  even  though  I  could  not  possibly  love  him.  It  would 
be  considered  quite  a  meritorious  action  on  my  part  to  marry 
a  deformed  man  with  a  great  fortune  and  to  enrich  all  my 
belongings.  But  if  one  looks  at  the  matter  in  its  true  light — 
remembering  that  my  mai'riage  is  really  no  marriage,  and 
that  I  am  free  in  fact,  if  not  in  name — there  is  no  greater 
wrong  in  becoming  Hubert's  mistress  than  in  becoming  his 
wife.  The  wrong  lies  in  the  violence  done  to  my  own  senti- 
ment ;  but  whether  I  sell  myself  with  the  sanction  of  the 
world  or  without  it,  the  deed  in  itself  must  surely  remain 
the  same.  In  truth,  when  it  comes  to  selling  one's  self,  I 
almost  think  the  offense  to  morality  must  be  less  if  one  does 
not  ask  the  Law  and  the  Church  to  ratify  it. 

"  I  am  afraid  you  will  think  that  I  am  tutoring  myself 
weakly  to  accept  an  alternative  which  I  might  escape  if  I 
were  to  act  differently.  You  will  say,  '  Eila  was  always  a 
wretched  creature  without  any  backbone  ;  why  does  she  not 
appeal  to  her  cousin's  honour  and  chivalry,  and  make  him 
feel  that  he  is  acting  like  a  villain  ? '  But  oh,  Reginald,  if 
you  knew  Hubert  de  Merle,  you  would  know  how  little  such 
reasoning  meant.  He  is  not  like  other  men.  It  is  the  one 
fixed,  unchanging  idea  of  a  solitary  and  brooding  life  that 
he  is  resolved  to  carry  out  at  all  costs.  And  because  it  has 
never  been  realized,  he  is  the  more  determined  to  put  it  into 
execution  now.  He  would  see  one  after  the  other  of  the 
family  perish  of  hunger  at  his  feet,  and  I  with  them,  un- 
moved.  I  feel  it  when  I  am  with  him.    He  has  put  us  under 


EILA'S  LETTER.  383 

even  greater  obligations  than  I  knew  of.  It  would,  take  too 
long  to  tell  you  of  them  all.  He  even  has  Dick  in  his 
power,  and  can  save  him  or  lose  him  at  his  pleasure.  He 
has  told  me  that  Dick's  fate  and  the  fate  of  all  my  dear  ones 
rests  with  me,  and  is  in  my  hands  aloixe.  If  I  listen  to  him 
he  will  have  a  proper  act  drawn  up  (you  know  I  don't  un- 
derstand legal  terms,  but  it  would  be  something  that  a  great 
firm  of  London  lawyers  would  undertake)  by  which  five 
hundred  pounds  would  be  paid  mother  yearly  for  the  whole 
term  of  her  life,  and  two  hundred  a  year  to  each  of  the 
others.  I  have  always  thought— and  really  this  is  no  pre- 
tence— that,  if  I  could  procure  a  certainty  for  the  others  like 
the  one  contained  in  Hubert's  offer,  I  would  gladly  consent 
to  die.  i^Of  course  I  should  bargain  for  an  easy  death,  for  I 
hate  pain.  Every  fibre  in  my  body  seems  to  shrink  from  it. 
But  if  I  would  accept  actual  physical  death,  why  should  I 
not  accept  the  social  death  that  an  acquiescence  in  his  plan 
would  bring  upon  me  ?  I  know  which  course  the  family 
would  prefer  me  to  take  if  you  were  to  ask  them  their  opinion 
by  turns  quite  independently  of  each  other. 

"  I  have  thought  the  matter  over  until  I  seem  to  have  no 
power  of  judgment  left.  I  believe  thinking  of  a  subject  too 
long  and  too  intently  must  trouble  our  point  of  view  about 
it,  like  repeating  the  same  word  over  and  over  again.  Both 
subject  and  word  cease  to  have  any  meaning  after  a  time. 
Sometimes  I  think  what  a  wicked  fool  I  must  be  not  to  close 
with  the  bargain  at  once.  Between  forcing  Mamy  to  marry 
without  love,  and  acting  upon  the  same  principle  myself — 
without  marriage — the  last  course  would  be  much  less  wrong 
than  the  first.  I  have  no  position  to  lose,  and  my  own  feel- 
ings are  much  fainter  than  Mamy's.  It  could  not  be  other- 
wise after  the  dreary  experience  of  my  first  marriage.  Be- 
fore you  give  me  advice,  Reginald,  try  for  pity's  sake  to  put 
yourself  in  my  place.  Remember  that  there  can  be  no 
scandal  in  taking  the  step  I  contemplate,  and  no  wrong 
done  to  another.  Hubert  is  free,  and  if  I  go  to  live  with 
him  after  a  time  (for  that  is  part  of  the  contract)  he  would 
take  me  to  some  foreign  place  where  I  would  pass  for  his 
wife,  and  be  respected  by  the  people  about  us.     If  I  should 


384:  ^^OT   COUNTING  THE  COST. 

become  a  widow,  or  we  can  obtain  a  divorce,  he  would 
marry  me.  But  meanwhile  all  I  have  been  able  to  obtain 
from  him  is  a  few  weeks'  respite  to  allow  me  to  make  up 
my  mind.  And  all  this  time  the  others  are  wondering  why 
the  journey  they  have  been  counting  upon  for  so  long  has 
been  delayed.  If  I  say  '  No '  to  Hubert's  proposal  he  will 
abandon  us  for  ever.  He  has  told  me  so  in  a  way  that  forces 
me  to  believe  him.  Then  there  would  be  nothing  to  look 
for  but  utter  misery  and  shame.  Indeed,  I  cannot  face  the 
thought  of  telling  my  mother  that  we  are  without  a  penny 
in  the  world,  and  that  Hubert  has  left  us  to  our  fate.  I 
might  as  well  dole  out  the  contents  of  the  octagonal  bottle 
at  once,  for  to  be  left  stranded  in  Paris  would  mean  to  die 
by  slow  starvation,  and  that  is  worse  than  poison,    o 

"  I  told  you  I  could  not  think  cleai-ly  of  the  situation 
any  longer,  for  the  reason,  I  suppose,  that  I  have  thought  of 
it  too  much.  Hubert  has  placed  the  knife  against  my  throat, 
as  they  say  here  when  one  is  forced  nolens  volens  to  accept 
the  conditions  of  the  stronger  party.  The  only  definite  no- 
tion I  have  clung  to  is  my  promise  to  tell  you  everything 
that  concerns  me.  If  it  were  not  for  you,  the  iirrangement 
I  told  you  of  would  have  been  carried  out  already.  You 
will  say  I  am  a  i)oor  specimen  of  what  a  true  woman  ought 
to  be.  My  feeling  for  Hubert  should  by  rights  be  one  of 
intense  horror  and  loathing,  but  really  it  comes  nearer  to 
indifference  than  anything  else.  There  is  a  vague  wonder 
in  my  mind  all  the  time  at  his  attaching  such  a  tremendous 
price  to  the  doubtful  advantage  of  annexing  an  indifferent 
woman ;  but  I  have  given  up  trying  to  understand  men's 
natures.  They  are  so  different  from  one's  own.  Even  you 
are  beyond  my  comprehension  ;  I  only  know  that  if  I  were 
free  I  should  feel  quite  safe  and  happy  by  your  side,  and  it 
would  be  a  relief  to  surrender  my  judgment  to  yours.  I 
have  come  to  the  conclusion  that  I  have  no  head  for  practi- 
cal matters ;  and  as  for  abstract  ones,  after  all,  Pilate's  ques- 
tion is  the  only  fitting  answer  to  them. 

"Now  good-bye,  Reginald — though  it  is  not  good-bye 
unless  you  choose  it  to  be  so;  and,  at  any  rate,  when  you 
receive  this  letter,  there  will  be  nothing  that  need  hinder 


REGINALD'S  RESOLUTION.  385 

your  thinking  of  me  as  you  say  you  like  to  recall  me.  If  it 
were  not  that  it  would  be  cowardly  and  selfish  to  abandon 
the  others  to  their  fate,  I  sometimes  think  the  solution  of 
the  octagonal  bottle  emptied  by  me  alone  would  be  the  best 
and  easiest,  after  all.  One  does  get  so  tired  sometimes  of 
the  contrariness  of  everything  in  the  world." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

REGINALD'S  RESOLUTION. 

FoR#long  hours  after  Reginald  had  read  the  foregoing 
letter,  he  remained  outside  in  the  soft  evening  air  j)ondering 
over  its  contents.  He  had  wandered  down  the  lane  as  far 
as  the  beach,  and  found  a  rock  that  served  him  for  a  rest- 
ing-place. Mount  Wellington  behind  him  had  turned  from 
purple  to  rose,  and  from  rose  to  misty  gray.  The  harbour 
had  lost  the  flame-coloured  reflection  cast  ujjon  it  by  the 
sunset,  and  mirrored  now  a  full-globed  moon,  whose  rays 
lay  spread  like  a  silver  shield  upon  the  (juiet  waters.  The 
sea-breeze  was  soft  as  a  zephyr,  hardly  ruffling  the  smooth 
expanse  of  liquid  light  and  shade.  Only  the  lazy  advance 
of  the  tide  was  marked  by  the  oncoming  of  a  swirling 
fringe  of  sea,  that  wetted  the  sand  near  Reginald's  feet,  and 
then  retired  noiselessly  as  though  regretful  for  having  in- 
truded upon  his  solitude. 

Yet  he  took  but  scant  notice  of  moonlight  reflection  or 
gently-ciirling  tide.  "Only  the  heart,"  saith  the  Bible, 
"  knoweth  its  own  bitterness."  No  one  passing  by  the  spot 
where  he  was  seated,  and  observing  the  quiet  figure  rumi- 
nating upon  a  stone,  would  have  thought  of  connecting  it 
with  the  elements  out  of  which  a  five-act  tragedy  is  made. 
Yet  if  the  reflections  of  this  solitary  figure  had  found  utter- 
ance in  words,  if  the  conflicting  emotions  of  love  and  hate, 
and  hope  and  despair,  that  tortured  its  soul  had  been  ren- 
dered in  Greek  hexameters,  the  impression  of  a  very  true 
and  overwhelming  mental  anguish,  which  constitutes,  after 


386  NOT   COUNTING  THE  COST. 

all,  the  underlying'  theme  of  all  tragedy,  would  certainly 
have  resulted  from  the  experiment. 

What,  then,  was  the  nature  of  Reginald's  reflections  ? 
They  were  of  so  complex  a  kind  that  his  condition  might 
have  been  compared  to  that  of  a  man  who,  undergoing  vari- 
ous kinds  of  torture  at  the  same  moment,  is  unable  to  say 
which  inflicts  the  acutest  pain.  That  if  Eila  had  loved  him 
she  could  not  have  written  as  she  did,  could  not  have  rea- 
soned so  coldly  upon  the  hideous  barter  of  her  person ;  that 
under  happier  circumstances  she  might  and  could  have 
loved  him ;  that  she  was  going  to  perdition,  and  that  her 
letter  was  really  an  appeal  to  him  to  save  her ;  that  he  was 
powerless  to  save  her,  and  that  she  would  not  thank  him 
for  doing  so,  even  were  he  able— all  these  conjectures,  and 
a  thousand  others  of  a  like  description,  presented  them- 
selves to  his  mind  in  a  confused  succession,  and  added  each 
its  fresh  quota  of  torment.  Worst  of  all  was  a  degrading 
idea  that  came,  he  knew  not  whence,  and  that  took  posses- 
sion for  an  instant  of  his  troubled  brain,  though  he  could 
have  loathed  himself  for  having  harboured  it  directly  after- 
wards— the  idea  that,  though  he  could  not  cease  to  love 
Eila,  he  would  love  her  upon  a  lower  level;  that  perhaps, 
after  all,  it  was  not  himself,  but  his  senses,  that  she  had  en- 
chained, and  that  in  that  case  she  need  not  be  lost  to  him 
irretrievably.  She  did  not  love  her  monstrous  adorer.  She 
was  only  terrified  at  the  spectre  of  poverty  and  misery  that 
he  had  invoked  to  coerce  her.  If  she  listened  to  him,  it 
was  not  because  he  had  won  her  heart,  but  simply  because 
he  had  threatened  the  family  with  ruin.  Supposing  she 
were  to  accept  the  arrangement  he  tried  to  force  upon  her, 
would  he  not  be  treated  according  to  his  deserts  if  the  first 
use  she  made  of  the  liberty  his  money  conferred  should  be 
to  follow  the  inclination  of  her  heart  in  another  direction  ? 
To  gain  her  for  himself,  Reginald  felt  that  the  shortest  plan 
would  be  to  thrust  her  into  Hubert's  arms.  For,  once  she 
had  been  dragged  down  from  her  pedestal,  the  motive  for 
worshipping  her  like  a  saint  from  a  distance  would  exist  no 
longer.  From  a  purely  material  jjoint  of  view  there  was 
everything  to  gain  by  the  execution  of  the  plan  she  had 


REGINALD'S  RESOLUTION.  387 

divulged  in  her  letter.  As  she  had  herself  said,  she  liad  no 
social  position  to  lose,  no  children  with  a  future  to  consider. 
Whether  slie  sent  her  cousin  away  and  starved  with  her 
family  in  a  garret,  or  whether  she  went  to  live  with  him, 
and  placed  them  out  of  the  reach  of  want,  neither  her  luna- 
tic husband  nor  his  aged  parents,  living  in  an  out-of-the-way 
corner  of  the  world,  would  be  affected  by  her  decision. 
Moreover,  old  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frost  had  already  marked  her 
place  among  the  goats  assembled  before  the  Judgment-seat 
at  the  Last  Day,  and  under  these  circumstances  the  culprit 
might  as  well  be  hung  for  a  sheep  as  for  a  lamb. 

Reginald,  however,  did  not  allow  his  idea  to  reach  so  ad- 
vanced a  stage  as  this.  It  had  hardly  suggested  itself,  like 
the  whisper  of  an  unseen  Mephistopheles,  before  he  had  re- 
pelled it  with  horror. 

Among  the  doubtful  benefits  which  the  gradual  refining 
of  our  natures  has  conferred  upon  us  may  be  reckoned  the 
capacity  for  an  enormous  amount  of  suft'ering  through  those 
intangible  appurtenances  called  the  sentiments.  If  Reginald 
could  have  divested  himself  of  these,  his  way  would  have 
been  easy.  But  so  far  was  he  from  being  able  to  find  com- 
fort in  the  "  lower  level "  theme  of  love,  that  I  believe  if  a 
magician  had  appeared  to  him  upon  the  Hobart  beach  at 
this  moment,  and  had  offered  to  convey  young  Mrs.  Frost 
to  a  nunnery  where  she  might  have  lived  and  died  in  chaste 
seclusion  out  of  the  reach  of  Reginald  himself,  as  well  as  of 
all  mortal  men,  he  would  have  fallen  at  that  magician's 
feet  and  blessed  him.  Yet  what  advantage  could  he  hope 
to  reap  from  such  a  solution,  save  that  of  being  able  to  pre- 
serve his  ideal  intact  in  the  exalted  shrine  he  had  fashioned 
for  her  ?  And  it  was  the  ideal  herself  that  now  besought 
him  to  couple  her  image  with  an  act  tliat  would  topple  it 
down  from  its  shrine  like  the  idol  in  the  temple  of  Dagon, 
and  shatter  it  to  pieces  at  his  feet !  At  one  moment  he 
could  have  spurned  Eila  for  her  confidence  in  him,  and  the 
moment  after  he  could  have  blessed  her  for  it. 

But  I  think  it  was  the  latter  mood  that  prevailed,  after 
all.  Through  all  the  elaborate  arguments,  the  special  plead- 
ing of  which  her  letter  was  so  full,  the  one  clear  truth  was 


388  NOT   COUNTING  THE   COST. 

evident  to  him.  She  confided  in  him  and  trusted  him,  not 
because  she  loved  liim,  but  because,  as  far  as  her  heart 
could  be  moved,  it  had  been  moved  by  his  love  for  hei\ 
She  had  been  loyal  to  the  promise  she  had  made  him,  and 
in  the  closing  j)art  of  her  letter,  "  It  is  not  good-bye  unless 
you  wish  it  to  be  so,"  he  read  between  the  lines  that  she 
hoiked  he  might  yet  be  able  to  save  her  at  the  eleventh  hour. 
Unless,  indeed,  the  cynical  suggestion  that  had  flitted  through 
his  mind  had  occurred  to  her  as  well  as  to  him,  and  she 
meant  him  to  understand  that  her  alliance  with  her  cousin 
would  not  put  an  insurmountable  barrier  between  them  as 
far  as  her  own  affections  were  concerned.  But  he  repelled 
the  thought  with  a  "  Retro,  Satanas  ! "  as  it  rose.  If  such  a 
solution  were  monstrous  in  his  eyes,  it  should  be  doubly 
monstrous  in  hers,  and  he  would  not  sully  his  thought  of 
her  by  dwelling  upon  it.  The  first  interpretation  he  had 
given  to  her  words  was  the  only  one  worthy  of  her,  and  in- 
stead of  sitting  like  a  moon-struck  fool  all  night  upon  the 
beach  he  should  be  up  and  doing  in  her  behalf.  If  she  were 
really  in  earnest,  he  could  save  her  still.  There  is  an  un- 
speakable relief  in  presence  of  a  soul-crushing  disaster  in 
the  mere  act  of  considering  practical  ways  and  means.  Hope 
revives  with  the  possibility  of  action.  Reginald  considered 
first  what  money  he  had  to  dispose  of.  Never  had  he  found 
more  reason  to  rejoice  over  his  simple  and  economical  habits 
of  life  than  now,  for  with  what  he  had  saved,  and  with  what 
lie  could  borrow  (and  even  at  this  crisis  he  would  not  bor- 
row more  than  he  could  see  his  way  to  returning),  he  fore- 
saw that  he  would  be  able  to  raise  at  least  five  hundred 
pounds.  Now,  five  hundred  pounds  in  ready  money  will 
accomplish  a  great  deal  under  proper  management.  With 
five  hundred  j)ounds  he  could  bring  Eila  and  all  her  be- 
longings to  Tasmania  again,  and  feed  them  and  house  them 
and  look  after  them  until  some  kind  of  position  should  have 
been  found  for  them.  To  have  them  back  would  be  an  im- 
mense step  gained.  Here  in  this  generous  land  there  need 
be  no  fear  of  their  starving.  Their  i^eculiarities  would  be 
all  forgotten  in  their  misfortunes.  But  how  was  he  to  let 
Eila  know  his  plan  ?    It  would  be  more  than  five  weeks  be- 


REGINALD'S  RESOLUTION.  389 

fore  she  could  receive  a  letter  from  him,  and  what  might  not 
happen  if  the  wolf  were  at  the  door  of  the  Paris  apartment, 
and  a  worse  wolf  in  the  shape  of  Hubert  de  Merle  were  lying 
in  wait  outside  it  while  the  five  weeks  were  passing  away  ? 

He  could  telegraph,  however.  He  could  send  a  few  short 
words  of  passionate  appeal  to  Paris,  adjuring  Eila  to  wait. 
No  doubt  it  is  difficult  to  condense  an  imj)assioned  appeal 
into  words  with  the  knowledge  that  each  word  costs  half  a 
guinea.  But  Reginald  was  not  to  be  debarred  by  such  con- 
siderations as  these.  He  made  his  way  the  very  next  morn- 
ing to  the  telegraph-office,  and  wired  the  despatch  he  had 
thought  of  in  the  night.  The  words  for  which  he  paid  at 
the  afore-mentioned  rate  were  as  follows :  "  Plenty  money 
coming.  Wait !  "  "  Plenty  money  "  was  not  unlike  an  ab- 
original rendering  of  English,  but  it  seemed  to  him  to  con- 
stitute the  most  powerful  as  well  as  the  most  practical  form 
of  api^eal.  He  had  thought  in  the  first  instance  of  giving 
expression  to  his  passionate  distress,  of  telling  Eila  that  she 
was  killing  him.  But  by  dint  of  re^jeating  the  words,  "You 
are  killing  me,"  over  to  himself,  they  seemed  to  lose  their 
force.  Besides,  though  telegTaph  operators  should  be  re- 
garded as  priests  in  a  confessional,  he  could  not  hand  this 
formula  in  cold  blood  to  a  clerk  with  whom  he  had  played 
cricket  only  a  few  years  before.  It  had  also  occurred  to  him 
that  he  would  wire  one  word  only— "DoH'f  ;  "  but  this  was 
discarded  in  its  turn,  as  he  remembered  that  it  contained 
Mr.  Punch's  advice  to  young  ladies  about  to  mai-ry. 

How  Reginald  went  through  his  work  that  day  he  could 
not  have  told.  His  figures  were  as  correct  as  usual.  He  was 
even  able  to  enter  into  technical  questions  of  a  kind  that 
would  have  been  a  stumbling-block  to  any  but  a  clear-headed 
adept,  before  a  board  of  directors,  the  same  afternoon.  And 
all  the  time  he  was  aware  that  an  automatic  double  of  him- 
self was  casting  up  the  figures  and  arguing  about  the  tech- 
nicalities, and  that  his  real  self  was  twelve  thousand  miles 
away,  in  that  garish  apartment  that  Eila  had  described  to 
him  in  her  letters,  kneeling  at  the  feet  of  the  woman  he 
loved,  and  beseeching  her  for  pity  of  herself  and  him  to  re- 
frain from  going  to  perdition. 


390  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

When  he  left  his  office  at  the  end  of  his  clay's  work, 
though  hardly  at  the  end  of  the  day  itself,  for  the  sun  was 
still  above  the  mountains,  he  turned  his  steps  mechanically 
in  the  direction  of  the  hilly  street  that  led  to  Eila's  old  home. 
His  memory  travelled  back  to  the  evening  when  he  had  as- 
cended it  for  the  last  time  to  take  his  final  leave  of  her.  If 
he  could  have  foreseen  what  had  come  to  pass  now,  would 
he  have  let  her  go  away  then  ?  Would  he  have  spoken  to 
her  as  lie  had  spoken,  while  they  sat  uj^on  the  bench  in  the 
moonlight  side  by  side  ?  Had  lie  not  almost  opened  the  door 
to  the  catastrophe  that  threatened  now  ?  He  had  told  her 
that  nothing  she  might  do  would  surprise  him  or  detach  him 
from  her,  and  that  even  if  she  should  listen  to  words  of  love 
from  another  man,  she  must  not  be  afraid  to  avow  the  same 
to  him.  But  he  had  never  conteni])lated  such  a  disaster  as 
this.  He  had  thought  it  possible  that  her  impressionable 
nature  might  be  touched  by  someone  more  gifted  than  him- 
self, and  had  she  written  to  him  that  she  had  truly  lost  her 
heart,  he  would  have  done  his  utmost  to  perform  a  brother's 
part  towai'ds  her.  Though  in  that  case  the  position  would 
have  been  tenfold  worse  than  now.  Reginald  wandered  on 
absorbed  in  his  thoughts,  heedless  of  the  path  he  was  follow- 
ing, until  he  had  left  the  town  behind  him,  and  found  him- 
self in  a  narrow  gorge  between  two  hills.  The  rays  of  the 
sun  fell  slantwise  upon  the  dark  trees  that  towered  above 
him  in  the  solitude,  turning  the  layers  of  foliage  of  the  na- 
tive cherry-tree  into  screens  of  verdant  velvet,  and  warming 
the  red-splashed  gum-leaves  into  fiery  splendour.  Did  Eila 
really  mean  what  she  had  written  about  going  away  with 
him  into  the  wilds,  and  earning  the  right  to  live  by  helping 
him  to  redeem  the  wilderness,  or  was  this  only  one  of  the 
vague  phrases  in  which  she  occasionally  indulged,  with  the 
knowledge  that  she  could  not  be  taken  at  her  word  ?  What 
was  the  secret  of  the  witchery  she  exercised  over  him  ? 
Apart  from  her  love  for  her  family,  which  was  bound  up 
with  the  strongest  fibres  of  her  being,  he  doubted  whether 
she  was  capable  of  harbouring  a  strong  or  steadfast  senti- 
ment. Would  not  a  woman  who  could  feel  deeply  have 
been  crushed  to  the  earth  by  such  experiences  as  she  had 


REGINALD'S  RESOLUTION.  391 

been  through  ?  Yet  they  had  not  brought  her  one  gray  hair, 
or  set  the  shadow  of  a  wrinkle  on  her  face.  How  came  it, 
then,  that  she  had  the  power  of  inspiring  such  passionate 
devotion,  of  making  all  other  women  seem  as  puppets  by 
her  side  ?  Was  it  her  beauty  ?  Was  it  magnetism  ?  Had 
she  inherited  some  secret  charm  from  her  mysterious  ances- 
tors in  the  East  ?  He  recalled  her  image  in  the  washed-out 
cotton  frock  that  clung  so  meagrely  to  her  Hebe-like  form, 
and  shrank  away  from  her  wrists  and  ankles,  and  he  thought 
for  the  thousandth  time  how  beautiful  and  lovable  she  had 
looked  in  tliis  guise,  as  she  came  down  the  garden  path  to 
wish  him  good-bye.  She  had  spoken  to  him  of  Lucy  Wai'den 
that  last  night ;  he  would  rather  she  had  spoken  less  of  Lucy 
and  more  of  herself.  The  Wardens  were  in  Europe  now, 
but  since  Eila  had  spoken  it  had  been  hinted  to  him  in  other 
quarters  that  Miss  Warden  was  still  unmarried.  Supposing, 
if  all  other  exi^edients  failed,  he  should  ti'avel  to  Eui'ope  and 
ask  Lucy  to  marry  him,  with  the  sole  end  in  view  of  saving 
Eila  with  her  money  ?  Which  of  two  evils  would  be  the 
worst — to  see  Eila  cut  off  from  him  by  her  or  by  his  undoing  ? 
For  in  either  case  she  would  be  cut  off  from  him.  Only 
marriage  with  Lucy  would  make  the  separation  final  and 
irretrievable.  Then,  what  right  had  he  to  sacrifice  Lucy 
upon  the  altar  of  his  flame  for  Eila  ?  Though  he  had  said 
Miss  Warden  was  made  of  gutta-percha,  she  had  proved  that 
she  possessed  a  heart,  and  it  would  be  a  sorry  return  for  her 
constancy  to  break  it  in  behalf  of  her  rival. 

If  our  power  of  obtaining  a  thing  were  in  proportion  to 
our  power  of  wishing  for  it,  we  may  be  sure  that  as  the  sun 
went  down  that  evening,  and  Reginald  turned  his  back  upon 
the  solitary  gorge  and  followed  a  cross-cut  over  the  hills  that 
led  to  the  Sandy  Bay  cottage,  Eila  would  have  come  to  meet 
him  in  her  shrunken  cotton  frock  with  outstretched  arms, 
and  together  they  would  have  turned  tlieir  steps  towards  the 
wild  hills,  and  there  dwelt  in  an  Eden  composed  of  a  bark 
hut  of  their  own  building.  But  though  the  wish  may  be  fa- 
ther to  the  thought,  it  is  not  father  to  the  accomplishment, 
and  no  living  Eila,  only  a  shadowy  and  tantalizing  semblance 
of  her  walked  by  Reginald's  side  that  night  over  the  hills. 


392  NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

By  half-past  eight  the  normal  condition  of  the  little 
Sandy  Bay  cottage  was  one  of  dark  ahandonuient.  The 
helpless  occupant  would  be  in  bed,  and  only  a  faint  light 
shining  through  the  drawn  blind  of  a  side-window  would 
prove  that  her  attendant  was  reading  to  her.  Reginald  had 
made  it  a  rule  that  he  should  not  be  waited  for.  He  was, 
tlierefore,  not  a  little  astonished  to  see  an  apparent  illumina- 
tion in  the  two  front  rooms  as  he  opened  the  garden-gate. 
Hurrying  up  the  path,  he  discerned  the  shadow  of  an  un- 
known figure — clearly  a  man's — of  large  girth,  seated  in  a 
chair  at  the  table.  His  mother's  condition  had  long  de- 
barred him  from  inviting  friends  of  his  own  sex  to  drop  in 
in  the  evening,  for  an  liour  of  man's  talk  over  whisky-and- 
water  and  cigars,  and  as  he  entered  the  room  his  transparent 
face  wore  the  expression  of  uneasy  expectancy  which  makes 
the  unbidden  caller  feel  so  like  an  intruder.  .The  man  who 
corresponded  to  the  shadow  of  large  girth  on  the  blind  did 
not  appear,  however,  to  notice  Reginald's  expression.  He 
rose  from  his  chair  and  stood  in  the  full  light  of  the  gas, 
while  saying  in  plain-spoken,  deliberate  accents,  with  a 
strong  suggestion  of  provincialism,  "  I  shall  have  to  intro- 
duce myself  to  you,  sir,  I  expect.  My  name  is  Clare — 
William  Clare.  Maybe  you've  heard  the  family  up  on  the 
hill  speak  of  me — though  I  won't  answer  for  it,  notwith- 
standing that  I'm  their  nearest  relative  on  this  side  of  the 
world." 

"Pray  be  seated,  Mr.  Clare ;  I'm  very  glad  to  make  your 
acquaintance.  Of  course  I've  heard  your  nephews  and 
nieces  speak  of  you  many  a  time,"  Reginald  said. 

This  was  not  a  strict  truth,  for  only  once  had  Eila  men- 
tioned her  uncle's  existence  to  him.  However,  he  shook  the 
new-comer  cordially  by  the  hand.  This  delightful  stranger 
had  evidently  come  to  speak  about  Eila,  whose  very  kith 
and  kin  he  was,  and  who  had  possibly  dandled  her  on  his 
knees  in  the  days  of  her  entrancing  babyhood.  Mr.  Acton 
would  fain  have  discovered  some  far-off  suggestion  of  the 
niece  in  the  face  of  the  uncle ;  but  Mr.  Clare's  features,  of 
the  broad,  fleshy,  clean-shaven,  honest  description,  which 
might  belong  equally  to  Farmer  John  or  to  the  first  gentle- 


REGINALD'S  RESOLUTION.  393 

man  in  the  land,  conveyed  no  hint  of  exotic  lineage.  A  not 
unpleasant  aroma  of  recently-smoked  pipes  clung  about  his 
person.  His  clothes  were  of  countiy  make,  but  good  and 
new.  Altogether  a  fresh-coloured,  likeable,  trust-inspiring, 
and  to  all  appearance  inwardly  and  outwardly  clean  indi- 
vidual was  Mr.  Clare. 

"  Pray  sit  down,"  said  Reginald  again.  He  drew  for- 
ward a  chair  for  himself  and  motioned  his  visitor  to  his  for- 
mer seat  by  the  table.  "  You  don't  often  come  to  town,  I 
think,  Mr.  Clare  ?  I  never  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  you 
at  Cowa  that  I  remember." 

Mr.  Clare  did  not  answer  immediately.  Then  : 
"  There  were  reasons  why  I  kept  away,"  he  said  shortly. 
and  Reginald  detected  a  motion  of  the  left  eyelid  that  might 
almost  have  been  construed  into  a  wink.  "  It's  not  my  way 
to  speak  ill  of  people  behind  their  backs,  more  than  that  my 
brother's  children  was  as  nice  a  family  as  you'd  wish  to 
see.  But  my  sister-in-law  was  a  peculiar  woman,  there's  no 
gainsaying  it.  She  had  her  notions,  and  it  wasn't  any  use  to 
run  counter  to  them.  One  of  'em  was  to  give  a  wide  berth 
to  uncles  that  sold  half-chests  of  tea.  Well,  I've  never  been 
yet  where  I  wasn't  sure  of  a  welcome,  and  that's  why  you 
didn't  see  me  oftener  at  Cowa,  if  you  want  to  know  the 
truth.  No  ;  never  mind  " — as  Reginald  made  a  gesture  of 
polite  deprecation — "I  know  what  you're  going  to  say.  But 
I  never  cared  a  snap  of  the  fingers  for  Mrs.  Clare's  opinion, 
good  or  bad.  I  liked  the  children  ;  I  liked  'em  for  their  fa- 
ther's sake,  and  their  own  as  well.  A  fine  girl,  the  eldest !  A 
pity  they  let  her  throw  herself  away  like  that !  But  it's  a 
long  lane  that  has  no  turning,  and  it  seems  we've  come  to  the 
end  of  it  at  last.  And  by-the-by,  Mr.  Acton,  that's  just  the 
business  I've  come  to  speak  to  you  about  this  evening.  It 
seems  you're  such  friends  with  my  brother's  family  that 
you've  got  their  address  in  Paris.  But  I  want  you  to  give 
it  me  now  for  a  very  particular  reason.  You  see,  I  got  word 
to  day  that  my  niece's  husband,  Charles  Frost,  died  quite  sud- 
den-like in  the  Norfolk  Asylum  this  morning.  .  .  .  Why, 
whatever's  up  with  you  ?  Your  face  has  turned  just  as  white 
as  my  shirt.    I  hope,  sir,  I  haven't  been  indiscreet  ?    I  wasn't 


394  NOT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

aware  the  young'  man  was  a  friend  of  yours.  Anyhow,  it 
was  a  hopeless  case  ;  and  what's  a  man  without  his  reason  ? 
Better  far  for  him,  and  all  belonging  to  him,  that  he  should 
be  out  of  the  world.     Don't  you  agree  with  me,  sir  'i  " 

The  anxiously-inquiring  expression  j)ortrayed  in  the 
honest  eyes  of  Mr.  William  Clare  would  have  struck  Regi- 
nald as  somewhat  serio-comic,  or  comic-serious,  at  any 
other  time ;  but  now  there  was  room  for  one  thought,  and 
for  one  only,  in  his  mind.  True,  it  was  a  thought  that 
made  his  brain  reel  and  his  temples  throb.  Eila  was  free  ; 
she  was  free  at  last.  Like  the  hero  in  Longfellow's 
"  Dream,"  her  burden  had  fallen  from  her ;  it  had  fallen 
into  the  sea.  Hitherto  she  had  been  in  the  position  of  one 
of  those  criminals  of  legendary  times  who  were  chained 
for  their  lives  to  a  cori)se.  She  might  wander  where  she 
would  over  the  world.  All  she  could  do  was  to  lengthen 
her  chain  a  little.  The  ghastly  thing  at  the  other  end  was 
always  there.  Wherever  she  might  go,  she  must  feel  its 
clogging  weight — must  be  haunted  by  the  certainty  that 
it  would  drag  her  back  in  the  end.  But  now  it  was  gone, 
and  she  was  free — free  to  listen  at  her  will  to  a  suitor's 
wooing  ;  in  a  certain  sense,  she  was  to  be  had  for  the  ask- 
ing. Reginald  went  down  upoii  his  knees  before  her  in 
imagination,  and  laid  his  love  and  his  life  at  her  feet.  His 
first  impulse  was  to  telegi'aph  the  news  instantly  to  Paris  ; 
but  hardly  had  this  idea  occurred  to  him  than  it  was  rejected. 
Had  she  not  hinted  in  her  terrible  epistle  that  Hubert 
would  undoubtedly  have  proposed  marriage  to  her  had  she 
been  free,  and  that  for  her  own  part  she  would  have  jumped 
at  his  offer  ?  Reginald  never  doubted  that  she  would,  in- 
deed, in  this  respect  have  been  as  good,  or  as  bad,  as  her 
word.  With  the  fear  before  her  eyes  of  seeing  the  family 
starve,  no  power  on  earth  could  have  withheld  her.  Even 
the  most  impassioned  letters,  the  most  urgent  appeals,  might 
fail  to  move  her  at  a  distance.  He  believed  her  to  have, 
among  other  womanly  qualities,  a  quality  which,  though  a 
womanly  one,  is  none  the  less  a  defect.  She  was  curiously 
accessible  to  the  influence  of  personal  persuasion.  Though 
she  might  fill  reams  of  paper  with  carefully  considered  ar- 


REGINALD'S  RESOLUTION.  395 

guments,  it  was  not  to  counter-arguments  that  she  might  be 
exiiected  to  yield  most  readily.  A  tender  word,  a  heart-felt 
caress,  had  more  effect  than  all  the  reasoning  in  the  world. 
A  wild  desire  to  be  by  her  side  took  possession  of  Reginald's 
soul.  It  was  true  that  he  had  nothing  to  offer  her  but  the 
shelter  of  a  modest  roof,  and  the  prospect  of  being  fairly 
well  nourished  and  clothed.  But  had  she  not  told  him  of 
her  own  accord  that  she  would  like  to  go  into  the  wilds  with 
him  ?  He  felt  that  he  could  have  performed  prodigies  of 
work  to  place  her  in  a  setting  worthy  of  her.  .  ,  .  But  the 
family — the  poor,  helpless,  unpractical,  visionary  family  1 
How  should  he  provide  for  them  ?  How  dispose  of  them  ? 
It  was  all  very  well  to  say  he  would  bring  them  to  Tasma- 
nia. They  must  live  when  they  got  there,  and  slave  as  he 
would,  to  provide  for  five  people  (he  would  not  even  include 
Willie  in  the  number)  is  a  different  matter  to  providing  for 
one.  The  almost  miraculous  rapidity  with  which  one  im- 
pression will  follow  upon  another  when  the  brain  is  abnor- 
mally excited  was  the  reason  why  the  silence  wherewith 
Reginald  greeted  Mr.  Williaua  Clai-e's  announcement  lasted 
for  so  relatively  short  a  time.  In  the  course  of  a  very  few 
seconds,  joy,  hope,  terror,  despair,  and,  last  of  all,  a  great 
and  supreme  resolution,  had  held  alternate  sway  over  his 
mind.  The  resolution,  however,  had  driven  the  other  emo- 
tions away.  Come  what  might,  and  though  he  should  sacri- 
fice his  last  penny  in  the  effort,  Reginald  told  himself  that 
he  would  start  that  week  for  Europe.  In  five  weeks  he 
would  clasp  Eila  in  his  arms,  and  if  he  let  her  escape  from 
them  again,  why,  all  that  could  be  said  would  be  that  he  de- 
served his  fate.  But  would  he  let  her  escape  from  them, 
once  he  held  her  ?  To  those  who  knew  Mr.  Acton  under 
his  ordinary  and  demure  aspect  of  a  quiet,  unemotional 
Hobart  bachelor,  his  exjiression  as  this  question  surged  up 
in  his  mind  would  have  been  a  revelation.  Mr.  William 
Clare,  who  saw  him  for  the  first  time,  and  who  could  not 
therefore  establish  a  comparison  between  the  man  with  his 
face  working  under  the  gaslight  and  the  business-like, 
phlegmatic  secretary  who  mechanically  walked  up  and 
down  Macquarrie  Street  to  and  from  his  office  every  day, 
26 


396  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

was  only  aware  that,  for  some  unknown  reason,  his  new  ac- 
quaintance was  strangely  and  unduly  agitated. 

"  Maybe  you  were  a  friend  of  that  poor  fellow's,  sir,"  he 
ventured  at  last,  moving  uneasily  in  his  seat.  "  If  that's  so, 
why,  I  must  ask  you  to  excuse  me  for  being  so  abrupt." 

"  No — no ;  you  weren't  abrupt  at  all,"  Eeginald  said, 
mastering  himself  by  a  tremendous  effort ;  "  but  I  certainly 
never  expected  to  hear  of  his  going  so  suddenly.  You  see, 
it  was  a  sacred  charge  I  had  undertaken  (I  undertook  it  at 
Ella's — at  Mrs.  Frost's — request),  to  see  her — her  husband 
every  week.  He  was  in  his  usual  condition  last  Friday. 
There  was  no  reason  for  supposing  then  that  he  would  not 
live  to  be  a  hundred " 

"  'Twas  a  stroke,"  interposed  Mr.  Clare  in  relieved  tones. 
"  I  had  to  come  down  to  town  on  business  this  morning,  and 
I  timed  myself  to  catch  the  train  from  New  Norfolk.  The 
first  man  I  met  in  the  compartment  as  I  got  in  was  a  chap 
who's  got  a  brother  in  the  asylum.  Drink,  of  course. 
'  You've  got  a  nephew — or,  rather,  you  had  a  nephew — in 
there,  too,  Mr.  Clare,'  says  he,  looking  at  me  solemn-like. 
'  A  nephew  by  man'iage,'  I  said ;  '  and  a  damned  bad  job 
for  everybody  concerned.'  '  Well,  you're  quit  of  him  now,' 
he  says,  'for  I've  just  come  away  from  seeing  his  dead 
body.'  '  What  do  you  mean  ? '  I  asked  him.  I  was  kind 
of  dazed  by  the  news,  and  didn't  rightly  know  for  a  minute 
whether  I  was  glad  or  sorry.  '  He  had  a  stroke,'  he  says. 
'  It  was  on  the  brain,  so  I  was  told.  And,  upon  my  word, 
it's  a  happy  release.'  '  Upon  my  word,  I  believe  it  is,'  I 
said.  And  I  got  out  my  traps  and  left  the  train  there  and 
then.  I  went  up  to  the  asylum  and  got  the  news  confirmed. 
I  had  a  sight  of  the  body,  too.  It  looked  just  as  calm  and 
rational  as  if  the  poor  fellow  had  died  in  full  possession  of 
his  senses.  They  telegraphed  the  news  to  his  old  father  and 
mother  here  in  Hobart ;  but,  from  what  I've  heard  of  them, 
they  ain't  the  i^eople  to  wire  it  on  to  his  wife ;  and,  anyhow, 
if  thoy  do,  they  won't  break  the  news  very  gently.  I 
guessed  you  were  the  right  person  to  come  to ;  and  I  wasn't 
mistaken,  since  it  appears  you  were  delegated  by  my  niece 
to  keep  a  kind  of  watch  over  her  husband.     Now,  sir,  will 


REGINALD'S  RESOLUTION.  ^i) 

you  take  it  upon  yourself  to  tell  her  the  news  ?  Tell  her,  too, 
that  she  knows  I'm  no  hand  at  letter-writing — if  it  isn't  a 
business  letter ;  but  if  she  wants  a  home,  or  assistance  of  any 
kind,  why,  she's  only  got  to  write  to  me,  and,  whatever  her 
mother  may  say,  she'll  find  blood's  thicker  than  water  in 
the  end.  I'm  not  of  opinion  that  it  would  be  advisable  to 
wire  the  news.  It's  a  heavy  expense,  and  there's  nothing  to 
be  gained,  if  it  isn't  giving  a  body  an  extra  start.  Still,  if 
you  think  it's  our  duty  to  do  it,  you'll  please  draw  on  me 
for  what's  necessary.  And  that  reminds  me  again,  Mr.  Ac- 
ton. It's  a  delicate  matter  to  speak  about,  and  I  don't  rightly 
know  how  the  widow  and  children  were  provided  for  by  my 
brother,  but  I  calculate  they're  pretty  hard  up,  if  they're  not 
too  proud  to  confess  it;  and  wouldn't  you  advi.se  me  to  just 
send  'em  a  hundred  pounds  or  so  to  help  them  along,  with- 
out waiting  to  be  asked  ? " 

"  Indeed,  I  think  it's  an  excellent  idea,  Mr.  Clare,"  Regi- 
nald said  earnestly. 

He  scanned  the  face  of  Eila's  uncle  closely  as  he  uttered 
these  words,  and  what  he  saw  there  prompted  him  all  upon 
a  sudden,  and  without  premeditation,  to  speak  as  he  had 
never  thought  to  speak  to  a  living  soul  of  his  relations  with 
the  family  on  the  hill.  He  did  not  say,  or  even  hint,  that 
his  heart  was  hopelessly  and  irretrievably  bound  up  in  one 
of  their  number,  and  that  this  was  the  real  true  reason  why 
he  pleaded  for  them  now  as  though  he  had  been  their 
brother.  But  he  spoke,  nevertheless,  as  one  who  speaks  of 
the  thing  that  lies  nearest  to  his  heart.  He  described  their 
home-life  as  he  had  known  it  at  Cowa :  their  strong  affec- 
tion for  each  other,  their  quixotic  ideas,  their  illusions,  their 
terrible  lack  of  any  practical  comprehension  of  the  realities 
of  existence.  He  showed  how  Fate  as  well  as  their  own 
natures  had  worked  against  them  in  dejiriving  them  of 
what  constituted  their  only  means  of  existence.  He  de- 
clared that  the  failure  of  the  insurance  company  in  which 
Mr.  Clare  had  insured  his  life  had  left  them  actually  penni- 
less ;  and  in  answer  to  a  sympathizing  request  for  advice  as 
to  how  best  to  help  them  in  this  pass,  he  answered  that  to 
assist  the  family  back  to  Tasmania,  and  reinstate  them  at 


398  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

Cowa,  would  be  the  best  and  surest  means  of  saving  them 
from  starvation — or  worse.  But  the  worst  he  kept  to  him- 
self, deeming  the  "  starvation "  a  sufficient  plea  in  itself. 
He  did  not  tell  Eila's  uncle  of  the  existence  of  the  silver- 
king  cousin,  whose  help  had  been  offered  at  a  price  which 
it  made  him  shudder  to  contemplate ;  nor  did  he  say  that  he 
had  himself  sent  the  wherewithal  to  stave  off  the  first  inroad 
of  want.  That  he  had  said  enough,  however,  to  gain  his 
friends  the  help  they  needed  so  sorely  was  evident  from  the 
reassuring  manner  in  which  Mr.  William  Clare  received 
his  account  of  their  troubles.  The  latter,  it  is  true,  was  a 
man  of  business,  and  men  of  business  do  not,  as  a  rule,  sym- 
pathize with  the  misfortunes  that  unpractical  dreamers 
bring  upon  themselves.  But  if  his  manner  was  that  of  a 
business  man,  his  expression  was  that  of  Eila's  uncle,  and  it 
was  owing  to  this  circumstance  that  Reginald  found  the 
courage  to  speak. 

Before  Mr.  William  Clare  took  his  departure  that  night, 
the  liking  of  two  honestly-intentioned  men  for  each  other 
had  sprung  up  between  himself  and  his  host.  The  Sandy 
Bay  cottage  showed  its  illumined  blind  until  long  after 
midnight,  and  it  was  Reginald  himself  who  placed  on  the 
table  the  whisky-and-water  over  which  the  pipe  of  counsel 
was  smoked.  After  his  visitor  had  gone  and  a  hearty  shake 
of  the  hands  had  been  exchanged  with  him  at  the  little 
garden-gate  under  the  rays  of  the  descending  moon,  Regi- 
nald returned  to  the  cottage  to  ponder  over  all  that  had 
been  said  and  accomplished  that  night.  He  had  been 
through  emotions  enough  in  the  last  twenty-four  hours  to 
turn  his  hair  white  like  that  of  the  hero  of  Byron's  poem. 
And  now  the  great,  the  crowning  emotion  of  all  had  come. 
Eila,  his  love,  was  free.  No  maniac  form,  armed  with  a  hus- 
band's rights,  need  mingle  itself  hencefoi'th  with  his  di^eams 
of  her.  She  was  free — free  in  mind  and  in  body.  But  stay  ! 
Had  she  not  spoken  to  him  of  an  accursed  chain  that  threat- 
ened to  fetter  her  in  yet  another  direction  ?  Well,  from 
this  danger  he  trusted  to  be  in  time  to  deliver  her.  His 
talk  with  her  uncle  had  raised  his  hopes  and  his  spirits. 
He  recapitulated  to  himself  the  essential  points  that  had 


REGINALD'S  RESOLUTION.  399 

been  discussed  that  evening,  and  the  resolutions  arrived  at. 
First  of  all,  it  had  been  arranged  that  he  himself  should  be 
responsible  for  carrying  the  news  of  her  bereavement  (for 
such  was  the  conventional  word  that  had  been  employed) 
to  yomig  Mrs.  Frost.  Uncle  William  had  appeared  to  look 
upon  the  curious  fact  that  Mr.  Acton  was  on  the  point  of 
starting  himself  for  Europe  as  a  mere  happy  coincidence 
and  nothing  else.  If  he  thought  more  than  this,  he  dis- 
guised it  successfully,  like  the  non-loquacious  parrot  of  the 
proverb.  It  had  also  been  arranged  that  Reginald  should 
be  the  bearer  of  a  hundred  pounds  to  the  family  on  Uncle 
William's  account,  with  the  offer  of  assistance  towards  re- 
embarking  them  for  Tasmania.  Likewise  the  announce- 
ment that  Mr.  William  Clare  was  prepared  to  help  Willie 
towards  a  selection,  and  to  fhid  a  place  for  Dick  in  his  store. 
And  at  this  proposal  it  had  been  Reginald's  turn  to  think 
thoughts  he  refrained  from  divulging.  Another  point  ar- 
ranged between  the  friendly  conspirators,  was  that  Regi- 
nald should  inform  Eila's  parents-in-law  of  the  plans  that 
had  been  made  in  the  family's  behalf,  and  likewise  sound 
them  as  to  their  intentions  with  regard  to  their  son's 
widow.  All  this  appeared  to  Reginald  to  constitute  a 
good  night's  work  when  he  came  to  think  it  over.  Of 
the  part  of  the  programme  that  Uncle  William  knew 
notbing  about,  or  professed  to  know  nothing  about,  Regi- 
inald,  we  may  be  sure,  thought  the  most  of  all.  He  had  not 
closed  his  eyes  the  night  before,  but  his  wakefulness  to-night 
was  appalling.  The  intensity  of  his  apprehension  of  the  sit- 
uation was  so  keen  that  he  felt  as  though  he  were  all  one 
throbbing  sentient  brain.  Instead  of  mocking  rest  by  going 
to  bed,  he  went  to  his  room  for  his  towels,  turned  out  the 
gas  and  stole  softly,  in  order  not  to  disturb  his  mother, 
through  the  back-garden  down  to  the  strip  of  beach.  The 
moon  had  quite  disappeared.  Only  the  ashy  light  that  pre- 
cedes the  dawn  made  the  sea  dimly  visible.  The  tide  was 
high,  and  the  waves  looked  cold  and  gray.  He  threw  off 
his  clothes  and,  running  like  the  primitive  man  into  the 
advancing  sea,  swam  far  out  upon  its  swaying  surface — al- 
most too  far,  indeed,  for  the  flood  of  thoughts  and  fears  that 


400  NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

overwhelmed  him  made  him  unmindful  of  the  distance. 
He  took  his  strokes  mechanically,  pricked  on  by  the  cold 
and  a  certain  inward  fever  of  exciteruent.  It  was  only  when 
he  saw  how  near  the  crimson  band  that  scored  the  sky  over 
the  opposite  shore  looked  to  his  eyes,  and  when  a  feeling  of 
physical  lassitude  began  to  creep  upon  him,  that  he  under- 
stood the  danger  of  what  he  had  done.  Could  there  be  folly 
more  monstrous  than  to  go  to  his  death  when  Eila  was  wait- 
ing for  him  at  the  other  end  of  the  world  ?  The  thought 
seemed  to  paralyze  him  at  first,  and  then  to  give  him  a  des- 
perate strength.  He  turned  with  the  skill  of  a  practised 
swimmer  upon  his  back,  and  slowly,  and  with  infinite  care, 
j)addled  himself  gently  along  in  the  direction  of  the  beach. 
The  incoming  tide  helped  his  efforts,  and,  staring  up  at  the 
sky  with  eyes  that  smarted  from  the  washing  of  the  sea  over 
them,  he  saw  the  stai'S  pale  gradually  in  the  lightening,  sky. 
Arrived  within  two  or  three  hundred  yards  of  shallow 
water,  he  struck  out  again  with  renewed  vigour,  but  was 
obliged  to  confess  to  himself  that  it  was  touch-and-go  with 
him  more  than  once  before  his  feet  finally  found  the  bottom. 
The  anger  he  felt  against  himself  as  he  threw  himself 
down,  utterly  exhausted,  upon  the  beach,  and  realized  how 
near  he  had  been  to  his  death,  was  more  on  Eila's  account 
than  on  his  own.  But  the  physical  fatigue  had  had  the 
effect  of  a  strong  narcotic.  He  never  remembered  clearly 
how  he  had  dried  himself,  or  put  on  his  clothes,  or  made  his 
way  back  to  the  cottage.  But  that  he  must  have  done  these 
things  mechanically  was  certain,  for  when  he  next  regained 
consciousness  it  was  eleven  in  the  morning,  and  he  was  in 
his  own  bed  in  his  own  room.  A  profound  and  blessed 
sleep  had  obliterated  all  sense  of  being  in  him  during  the 
intervening  hours.  He  admired  the  certainty  of  his  moth- 
er's instinct,  that,  instead  of  causing  him  to  be  waked  in 
time  to  go  to  his  oflice,  had  actually  sent  the  servant  with  a 
message  to  the  effect  that  he  was  detained  at  the  house  by 
illness.  He  felt  like  a  giant  refreshed  by  wine  as  he  rose 
and  dressed  himself,  his  mind  full  of  all  the  things  he  had 
undertaken  to  do.  There  was  leave  of  absence  to  obtain,  in 
the  first  instance.     He  was  entitled  to  a  two-months'  holi- 


REGINALD'S  RESOLUTION.  40 1 

day,  having  purposely  postponed  taking  his  month  when 
his  turn  had  come  in  the  course  of  the  last  half-year.  He 
must  make  interest  with  the  board  of  directors  to  obtain  a 
six-months'  leave  upon  "urgent  private  affairs."  To  pre- 
pare his  mother  for  the  separation  would  be  worse  than  to 
confront  all  the  directors  of  all  the  companies  in  Australia. 
Then  he  must,  in  popular  i^arlance,  "raise  the  wind,"  and 
contrive  to  have  at  least  five  hundred  pounds  in  cash  within 
two  days'  time.  He  must  be  ready  himself  in  three  days  to 
catch  the  Launceston  boat,  which  was  bound  to  deliver  pas- 
sengers and  letters  in  Melbourne  in  time  for  the  outgoing 
mail-steamer.  But  he  must  not  neglect  to  see  old  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Frost  in  the  interval,  and  to  use  his  best  and  most  dip- 
lomatic endeavoui's  in  behalf  of  young  Mrs.  Frost.  Diplo- 
macy, indeed,  would  be  needed,  for  he  would  certainly  be 
asked  by  what  right  he  had  constituted  himself  guardian  of 
the  interests  of  the  family  on  the  hill.  To  this,  however,  he 
had  his  answer  ready,  the  answer  being  nothing  but  the 
truth,  j)ure  and  simple.  It  was  a  curious  circumstance  that, 
had  there  been  anything  to  conceal  (though  none  but  he 
and  the  woman  he  loved  should  have  been  in  the  secret), 
that  answer  could  not  have  been  uttered  by  hira.  Now  he 
could  look  old  Mr.  Frost  straight  in  the  face— and  he  meant 
to  do  so^ — could  meet  his  inquisitorial  eyes  unflinchingly, 
could  say  to  him  in  so  many  words  :  "  Why  do  I  take  upon 
myself  to  speak  to  you  of  your  responsibilities  ?  Well,  if 
your  daughter-in-law  had  been  free,  she  would  have  been 
the  one  woman  in  the  world  I  would  have  desired  to  make 
my  wife.  She  is  free  now,  and  I  intend  to  try  to  win  her 
heart.  That  is  the  reason  why  I  interest  myself  in  her  fam- 
ily as  well  as  in  herself." 

Even  judged  by  the  old  man's  own  narrow  and  Calvin- 
istic  creed,  such  an  avowal  could  not  be  an  offence  either  to 
God  or  to  man.  So  much  for  the  tasks  that  Reginald  had 
to  perform  before  he  took  his  departure.  As  to  the  course 
he  would  follow  when  he  reached  his  destination,  there 
would  be  time  and  to  spare  to  think  of  that  during  the  long 
journey  across  the  Indian  Ocean,  the  vacant  days  of  pant- 
ing idleness  in  the  Red  Sea,  the  slow  steaming  along  the 


402  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

Mediterranean  towards  Marseilles  (slow  it  must  be  in  any 
case,  judged  by  his  sensations).  No  earthly  plea,  no  rea- 
sonable excuse,  save  his  great  and  overmastering  love, 
could  he  urge  when  he  should  appear  before  Eila.  He 
would  tell  her  he  had  come  to  save  her.  If  she  went  to 
Hubert,  it  could  only  be  by  treading  upon  his  own  dead 
body  stretched  at  her  feet.  He  would  not  live  to  see  the 
work  of  desecration  accomplished.  True,  he  had  no  money. 
He  would  be  obliged  to  admit  that  the  thing  he  had  done 
was  wild,  unreasonable,  unpardonable,  from  a  common- 
sense  point  of  view.  But  love  is  beyond  common-sense. 
With  what  he  had  and  what  had  been  confided  to  him,  he 
was  bringing  at  least  a  sufficient  sum  of  money  to  convey 
the  family  back  to  Tasmania,  and  once  there,  he  and  his 
new  ally  would  not  let  them  come  to  grief.  Looked  at  in 
this  light  the  enterprise  was  not,  perhaps,  so  wild  as  it  ap- 
peared at  first  sight. 

Though  promising  himself  that  he  would  not  think  of 
the  real  object  for  which  he  had  undertaken  the  voyage 
until  he  was  fairly  started,  Reginald  did  in  point  of  fact 
think  of  little  else  during  the  few  agitated  days  that  pre- 
ceded his  departure.  We  may  take  it  for  granted  that  he 
carried  out  the  programme  he  had  laid  down  to  the  letter ; 
that  he  scraped  together  five  hundred  pounds  in  cash, 
whereof  almost  a  hundred  went  immediately  for  the  pui'- 
chase  of  a  return  ticket  by  the  Messageries  steamer  to  Mar- 
seilles ;  that  he  broke  the  news  of  his  projected  flight  to  his 
mother  without  breaking  her  heart  at  one  and  the  same 
time ;  that  he  conducted  himself  with  the  skill  of  a  born 
tactician  in  his  interview  with  old  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frost, 
whom  he  found  more  incensed  than  ever  against  their 
daughter-in-law,  anger  being  a  derivative  from  grief ;  that 
he  obtained  the  necessary  leave  from  his  directors  without 
forfeiting  his  position ;  that  he  packed  the  things  into  his 
portmanteau  with  a  true  sailor's  adroitness,  and  that  all  the 
time  he  was  carrying  on  these  multifarious  operations  his 
spirit  was  leaping  on  before  him  to  the  garish  apartment  in 
the  unknown  regions  of  the  Boulevard  de  I'Observatoire 
inhabited  by  young  Mrs.  Frost.     To  discover  what  the  latter 


WHAT  EILA  WAS  DOINa  MEANWHILE.         403 

was  doing  meanwhile  will  oblige  us  to  return  to  Pai'is,  and 
to  take  up  our  narrative  from  the  time  when  Hubert  quitted 
her,  with  the  menace  made  at  the  last  moment,  giving  her 
only  three  months  in  which  to  make  up  her  mind  to  accept 
or  reject  the  plan  he  had  proposed  to  her. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

WHAT  EILA  WAS  DOING  MEANWHILE. 

Three  months'  respite !  Twelve  weeks,  nay,  fourteen, 
well  counted — in  which  to  lay  her  plans  and  find  a  door  of 
escape  !  This  was  the  thought  that  was  paramount  in  our 
heroine's  mind,  as,  pale  and  weary,  she  toiled  up  the  polished 
steps  that  led  to  the  quatrieme  after  her  interview  with  Hu- 
bert was  over.  He  was  gone.  Adieu  henceforth  to  the  din- 
ners at  the  restaurant,  the  drives  to  the  theatre  in  the  closed 
landau,  the  intoxicating  taste  of  the  splendours  of  the  bril- 
liant Paris  of  the  rich.  Back  to  her  ashes  must  Cinderella 
return.  Her  fairy -coach  was  once  more  a  common  pumj)- 
kin,  her  gorgeously-caparisoned  chargers  eight  mean  rats, 
and  her  own  bejewelled  train  a  blue  kitchen  apron.  True, 
by  means  of  two  little  words  she  might  transform  herself 
into  a  princess  again,  and  drive  in  a  carriage  and  eight  once 
more ;  but  it  was  just  these  two  words  she  could  not  bring 
herself  to  pronounce.  Whether,  by  dint  of  rehearsing  them 
in  her  thoughts  by  day  and  her  dreams  by  night,  she  would 
find  the  strength  to  utter  them  by  the  time  the  three  months 
were  at  an  end,  Eila  dared  not  ask  herself.  It  would  depend 
upon  so  many  things.  If  the  wolf,  for  instance,  should 
show  his  fangs  at  the  door  of  the  quatrieme,  she  could 
not  answer  for  what  she  might  be  driven  to  do.  For  the 
time  being,  at  least,  she  had  the  wherewithal  to  throw  him 
sops  in  plenty.  But  supposing  a  malignant  Fate  should 
deprive  Hubert  of  life  and  fortune  before  the  period  of  pro- 
bation Avas  over  !  The  very  thought  of  such  a  catastrophe 
made  Eila  shake  and  shiver.     Before  she  had  reached  the 


404  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

door  of  the  apartment  siie  felt  strongly  tempted  to  run 
down  the  staircase  again,  hail  a  cab,  di-ive  to  the  Louvre, 
and  fling  herself  into  her  cousin's  arms.  There  should  be 
no  more  half-2neasures.  She  would  take  her  place  by  his 
side  in  the  full  light  of  day,  call  herself  boldly  Madame  de 
Merle,  and  spend  the  rest  of  her  life  in  making  him  devote 
his  great  fortune  to  worthy  purjjoses — fu'st,  and  above  all,  to 
securing  the  prospects  of  the  family. 

How  many  diverse  points  of  view  succeeded  each  other 
in  her  mind  as  she  mounted  the  steps  can  never  be  told.  If 
she  could  have  felt  towards  Hubert  as  she  felt  towards  Regi- 
nald, she  would  not  have  hesitated  for  a  moment.  But  then 
where  would  have  been  the  virtue — where  the  self-sacrifice  ? 
On  the  other  hand,  if  Hubert  had  shown  himself  capable  of 
behaving  as  Reginald  had  done,  might  he  not  really  have 
succeeded  in  inspiring  her  with  something  more  than  mere 
c6usinly  gi'atitude  and  affection  ?  She  had  no  shrinking 
from  his  person.  Deformed,  distorted,  Vulcan-like  as  he  ' 
might  be,  there  was  nothing  that  repelled  her  in  his  ugli- 
ness. Had  she  not  told  him  she  would  have  married  him 
had  she  been  free  ?  "  Then  how  doubly  illogical  and  un- 
reasonable I  am,"  she  reflected,  perplexed  by  the  apparent 
inconsistency  of  her  scruples.  "  What  do  I  want,  after  all  ? 
Since  I  would  marry  Hubert  if  I  were  free,  and  since  I  attach 
no  particular  value  to  the  institution  of  marriage,  what  is 
the  obstacle  to  my  living  with  him  at  once,  as  he  wishes, 
and  making  everything  right  for  the  family  ?  It  is  Regi- 
nald who  prevents  me,  and  nothing  but  Reginald.  What- 
ever I  may  come  to  in  the  end,  I  cannot  act  without  warn- 
ing him.  Perhaps  I  shall  do  just  the  contrary  to  what  he 
advises.  But  at  least  he  cannot  say  that  I  have  not  kept  my 
promise." 

The  short  February  day  had  merged  into  darkness  as 
Eila  entered  the  ante-chamber,  where  Mamy's  bright  head, 
bending  over  the  table  under  the  light  of  the  kerosene  lamp, 
was  the  first  object  her  eyes  encountered.  To  be  the  bearer 
of  bad  tidings  to  the  family  was  the  heaviest  burden  that 
could  be  laid  on  young  Mrs.  Frost's  shoulders.  She  in- 
stantly cast  about  for  a  formula  by  which  to  soften  the  un- 


WHAT  EILA  WAS  DOING  MEANWHILE.         405 

welcome  announcement  that  Hubert  had  suddenly  been 
called  away — "pour  affaires,"  she  repeated  to  herself,  using 
unconsciously  the  French  form  she  had  heard  employed  in 
this  connection — and  that  the  coveted  Continental  tour 
must  be  put  off  for  a  whole  three  months,  during  which  it 
would  behove  the  family  to  live  very  sparingly.  But  Mamy 
lifted  two  eyes  that  reflected  almost  as  much  brightness  as 
her  auburn  crown  to  her  sister,  while  the  latter  dropped 
with  a  fatigued  air  into  the  nearest  chair. 

"  You  don't  ask  me  where  I've  been,"  cried  Mamy,  with 
some  elation  in  her  voice.  "  To  the  Hotel  du  Louvre.  And 
who  with  ?  Why,  with  the  Mr.  Wilton  we  saw  in  the  court- 
yard last  night.  He  came  to  call  this  afternoon  and  we 
found  him  trying  to  explain  who  he  was  looking  for  to  the 
concierge  below,  for  he  had  forgotten  our  names.  The  man 
and  his  wife — you  know  how  greedily  curious  they  are — 
were  pretending  not  to  understand  him,  just  to  find  out  all 
they  could  about  him.  He  brought  us  the  solemn  promise 
we  should  see  Dick  to-morrow.  Hubert  had  told  him  so. 
Dick  has  committed  some  escaj^ade — nothing  more  " — a  cer- 
tain triumph  was  observable  in  Mamy's  manner  at  this  point, 
for  was  she  not  the  first  to  whom  the  secret  had  been  con- 
fided ? — "  nothing  that  matters,  you  know  ;  but  it  had  to  be 
settled  (or  the  consequences  had  to  be  settled)  before  he 
could  come  home.  And  Mr.  Wilton  was  so  awfully  kind 
about  it,  Eila,  you  can't  think.  He  insisted  on  making  us 
drive  back  to  the  hotel  with  him  in  a  closed  fiacre — and  a 
very  good  one  it  was,  too,  for  a  wonder ;  and  he  made  it  wait 
for  us  the  whole  time  we  were  there,  and  he  simply  icouldn't 
let  us  go  away  until  he  had  given  us  afternoon  tea  in  the 
Louvre  dining-room — that  wonderful  place,  you  know, 
where  I  dined  with  the  Wardens,  only  it  doesn't  look  quite 
so  wonderful  now.  And  what  do  you  think  ?  He  remem- 
bers seeing  me  there !  It  was  the  evening  of  my  day  at 
Robinson's,  when  you  stayed  out  so  late  after  you  had  been 
to  give  a  lesson  in  the  Rue  de  la  Paix— you  remember  ? " 

Assuredly  Eila  remembered.  Yes,  it  was  certainly  a  co- 
incidence, but  there  were  yet  stranger  coincidences  than 
this,  of  which  Mamy  must  know  nothing. 


406  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

"He  asked  about  you,  too — a  little  curiously,  I  thought," 
continued  Mamy;  "not  too  curiously,  though.  He  had 
been  so  surj)rised  to  hear  you  were  married.  He  thought 
you  were  quite  a  young  girl." 

Remembering  under  what  circumstances  Mr.  Wilton  had 
probably  made  his  first  estimate  of  her  age,  Eila  maintained 
a  troubled  silence,  and  Mamy  rattled  on  : 

"  I  said  it  was  a  pity  you  were  not.  I  could  not  help  tell- 
ing him  a  little  about  the  reason  why  you  came  to  be  here 
without  your  husband,  Eila — or  else  he  would  think  it  so 
strange.  And  he  does  so  want  to  be  allowed  to  come  in  and 
out  like  Hubert  while  he  is  in  Paris.  It  is  the  first  time  of 
his  being  here,  and  you  know  how  dull  it  is  going  about  by 
one's  self.  But  the  best  of  all  is  that  mother  has  actually 
promised  to  give  him  some  French  lessons.  You  never  saw 
anyone  so  eager  about  learning.  He  wanted  to  begin  to- 
night, straight  off.  But  mother  won't  do  anything  till  she 
has  looked  up  the  books.  You  may  think  how  proud  she  is 
at  producing  the  old  dog's-eared  school-books,  and  j^roving 
they  have  actually  come  in  useful  again.  But,  anyhow,  she 
wouldn't  begin  until  Dick  comes  back.  Still,  Mr.  Wilton  is 
coming  to-morrow  to  see  if  she  is  ready  for  him.  Fancy 
mother  with  a  pupil !     Won't  it  be  fun  ! " 

"  Truca  will  be  having  one  next,"  said  Eila,  with  a  faint 
smile,  but  it  was  obviously  for  the  sake  of  saying  something. 
"  We'd  better  set  up  a  school,  I  think.  Mamy  dear,  would 
you  be  very  much  disappointed  if  our  trij)  were  put  off  until 
the  summer  ? " 

"  Disappointed  ! "  Astonished  indignation  almost  de- 
prived Mamy  of  utterance.  "  Disappointed  is  no  word  for 
it !    Who  talks  of  putting  it  off,  I  should  like  to  know  ? " 

"  I  was  afraid  you  would  mind,"  said  Eila  apologetically ; 
"but  something  has  happened  that  nobody  could  foresee. 
Hubert  is  called  away  suddenly  on — on — business,  for  three 
months.  That  is  not  a  long  time  to  wait,  after  all ;  and 
travelling  will  be  so  much  pleasanter  in  the  warm  weather. 
You  must  help  me  to  reconcile  mother  and  Truca  to  it." 

"  But  I  can't  reconcile  myself,''''  cried  Mamy,  in  doleful 
accents.     "  Oh  dear  !  oh  dear !  it  was  too  much  happiness.    I 


WHAT  EILA  WAS  DOING  MEANWHILE.         407 

felt  tliis  morning  it  couldn't  last-^something  would  have  to 
go  snap." 

"  But  nothing  has  gone  snap.  WeVe  only  got  to  wait  a 
little  for  the  treat.  We  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  looking 
forward.  Don't  you  remember,  Mamy,  when  you  were  quite 
a  little  girl  you  used  to  say  things  were  so  much  nicer  if  one 
waited  for  them." 

"  Oh  yes,  if  one  waited  to  eat  the  strawberries  and  cream 
at  the  top  of  the  hill  instead  of  the  bottom.  I  did  not  mean 
waiting  half  a  lifetime.  One  may  wait  until  all  the  zest  is 
gone  at  that  rate." 

Eila  did  not  continue  the  discussion.  She  had  taken  off 
her  thick  boa — a  present  from  Hubert — and  was  smoothing 
it  absently  across  her  knees.  Seeing  Mamy's  face  working 
as  a  preliminary  to  shedding  a  few  relieving  tears  of  morti- 
fication, she  said  quickly: 

"  Oh,  don't  cry,  Mamy  dear  !  I  never  dreamt  you  would 
have  minded  it  so  much.     Perhaps  it  can  be  arranged  still." 

"  Our  b-boxe*s — all  p-packed  ! "  whimpered  Mamy.  "  How 
can  one  ever  settle  d-down  to  anything  again  ? " 

"Mamy,"  said  her  sister  suddenly,  "if  by  marrying  Sjd- 
ii6y  you  could  set  out  at  once  on  the  journey — not  only 
you,  but  all  of  us  together — just  as  it  was  arranged,  with  the 
couiner  and  all,  would  you  make  the  sacrifice  ? " 

Mamy  dried  her  eyes  before  she  answered  decidedly : 

"  No ;  haviiig  to  take  Sydney  along  would  spoil  it  all. 
He'd  be  so  dreadfully  in  the  way — as  a  husband,  I  mean.  I 
should  like  him  to  come  well  enough  in  any  other  capacity." 

"  Supposing  we  invited  him  to  come  with  us  ? "  said  Eila. 
"  I'm  sure  he'd  ask  no  better " 

"I'm  sure  he  wouldn't,  either,"  agreed  Mamy;  "but  he 
would  tease  me,  as  he  always  does  when  we  are  together." 
Then,  after  a  short  silence  :  "  I  had  a  letter  from  him  to-day 
from  Nice." 

"  A  letter  from  Sydney !    Oh,  tell  me  what  he  says." 

"  I  haven't  read  it  all,"  pulling  a  crumpled  document 
from  her  pocket.  "  What  a  school-boy  hand  he  does  write, 
to  be  sure  !    Shall  I  read  it  to  you  ? " 

"  Do ! "  eagerly. 


408  NOT   COUNTING  THE  COST. 

"  '  My  dear  Mamy,  I '     Oh,  the  rest  doesn't  matter," 

"  It  does— it  does  matter,"  protested  her  sister  ;  "  it's  just 
what  I  want  to  hear." 

"Then  I'll  give  it  you  to  read  for  yourself.  But  wait 
till  I  look  at  the  rest  of  it.  He  says  he  could  almost 
fancy  himself  back  in  Australia,  because  of  the  gums  and 
wattles." 

"  Nothing  more  ?  " 

"  That  his  mother  has  found  out  '  it's  the  thing '  to  go  to 
the  gambling-tables,  and  since  she  won  forty  francs  one 
evening  she  can't  be  kept  away  from  them." 

"  Is  that  all  ?  " 

"  Oh,  read  it  yourself ! "  said  Mamy  impatiently,  flinging 
the  letter  across  the  table  to  her  sister. 

Sydney  Warden  was  not  more  eloquent  with  his  pen  than 
with  his  tongue ;  but  words  spoken  straight  from  the  heart 
move  us  more  than  the  most  elaborately-concocted  phrases. 

The  letter  furnished  a  list  of  the  names  of  various  fash- 
ionable young  ladies  upon  whom  Sydney's  mother  had  cast 
an  eye  for  her  son.  "  But  there  isn't  any  of  them  a  patch  on 
you,"  he  declared ;  "  and  if  my  mother  showed  me  the  great- 
est beauty  in  creation  I  wouldn't  look  twice  at  her.  When 
a  fellow  cares  for  anyone  as  I  do  for  you,  he  hasn't  eyes  for 
other  girls." 

Eila's  only  comment  upon  the  epistle  was  a  significant 
sigh  as  she  handed  it  back  to  the  owner.  The  same  evening 
she  informed  the  family,  in  the  persons  of  her  mother  and 
Truca,  of  the  proposed  delay  in  their  long-expected  Conti- 
nental trip.  Mrs.  Clare's  first  comment  upon  the  news  was 
an  outburst  of  righteous  wrath  against  her  cousin. 

"  And  he  is  gone,  you  say  ?  No  chance  of  speaking  to. 
him  ?  But  I  will  write  and  tell  him  what  I  think.  All 
these  moves  and  counter-moves  are  mere  pretexts  for  defer- 
ring to  execute  the  just  exchange  I  proposed.  I  have  a  good 
mind  to  send  the  picture  after  him.  We  have  the  packing- 
case — or  did  you  bvirn  it,  Eila,  in  the  winter  ?  I  hope  not. 
He  will  know  what  it  means  when  he  sees  it.  I  won't  have 
my  girls  kept  out  of  their  inheritance  any  longer." 

"  If  it  is  the  ruby  you  mean,  mother,"  said  Eila  wearily, 


WHAT  EILA   WAS  DOING  MEANWHILE.         409 

"  we  have  no  legal  claim  to  it,  and  we  owe  Hubert  enough 
by  this  time  to  buy  a  hundred  rubies." 

"  There  you  are  wrong,"  cried  Mrs.  Clare  with  the  calm- 
ness of  a  certainty  that  nothing  could  alter  or  swerve  ; 
"  that  ruby  was  a  stone  that  could  not  be  valued.  It  was 
beyond  value.  I  believe  myself  it  was  like  the  Koh-i-Nur, 
and  if  we  have  no  legal  claim — a  point  about  which  I  am 
not  at  all  swce — we  have  a  moral  claim,  and  that  is  worth 
all  the  legal  claims  in  the  world." 

Truca  looked  in  dismay  from  her  mother  to  her  elder 
sister  while  this  discussion  was  going  on.  As  Eila  made  no 
reply,  but  stared  drearily  in  front  of  her,  the  child  went  and 
took  her  standby  her  sister's  side  with  an  arm  clasped  round 
her  neck.  Eila  felt  for  the  small  hand  that  was  fondling 
her  neck,  and  held  it  tightly  in  her  own  as  Mrs.  Clare  con- 
tinued, "  When  I  am  dead  and  gone  you  will  discover  the 
truth  of  what  I  say.  Why  my  children  spend  their  lives  in 
thwarting  my  plaus  for  them,  Heaven  only  knows.  Did  I 
not  bring  you  home  on  purpose  to  discover  Hubert  ?  And 
how  long  had  we  been  here  before  we  found  him  ?  Has  not 
every  word  I  told  you  proved  to  be  the  exact  truth  ?  But  if 
I  was  so  anxious  to  find  your  cousin,  it  certainly  was  not 
for  his  company  alone— though  he  has  been  very  kind  and 
cousinly ;  I  am  tbe  fu-st  to  admit  it ;  still,  I  could  not  know 
before  we  met  him  what  he  might  turn  out  to  be— my  real 
object  in  coming  was  to  obtain  the  restitution  of  the  family 
heirloom,  of  which  my  mother  was  defrauded — which  be- 
longs of  right  to  me  first,  and  to  my  daughters  after  me — 
and  through  the  possession  of  which  Hubert  de  Merle  is 
now  in  the  position  of  a  millionaire." 

"  But,  mother,  a  ruby  does  not  give  interest !  He  cannot 
have  the  jewel  and  the  revenue  too,"  expostulated  Mamy, 
while  Eila  continued  to  gaze  gloomily  in  front  of  her. 

"  You  reason  like  a  child,"  said  her  mother  impatiently. 
"  The  possession  of  a  jewel  of  that  value  is  a  fortune  in  itself. 
Perhaps  it  is  hired  out  to  some  potentate.  I  have  heard  of 
people  hiring  diamonds  for  court  balls.  Money  may  always 
be  raised  upon  jewellery.  Hoav  else  could  people  pawn 
their  jewels— a  thing  which  is  done  every  day  ? " 


410  NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

That,  if  Hubert's  address  had  been  forthcoming  at  this 
moment,  Mrs.  Clare  would  instantly  have  carried  out  her 
threat  her  daughters  did  not  doubt  for  an  instant.  Eila, 
however,  declared  that  she  had  no  means  of  making  it 
known  until  Hubert  wrote,  and  Mamy  adroitly  diverted 
her  mother's  thoughts  into  another  channel  by  asking 
when  the  self -constituted  puj)il  was  to  have  his  first  lesson. 

The  answer  was  given  by  the  pupil  himself  the  follow- 
ing day.  Jack  had  taken  the  best  means  of  ensuring  a 
cordial  welcome  by  bi*inging  the  runaway  Dick  with  him. 
Perhaps  it  was  not  to  be  regretted  that  the  first  effusions 
called  forth  by  the  prodigal's  return  were  held  in  check  by 
the  presence  of  a  stranger,  for  in  the  face  of  Dick's  drawn 
countenance  and  solemn  eyes,  and  in  the  relief  from  the 
tension  they  had  endured,  it  is  more  than  probable  that 
mother  and  sisters  would  have  cried  over  him  as  a  victim 
and  a  martyr.  Dick  in  his  turn  would  have  been  tempted 
to  make  plenary  confession,  and  the  first  result  would  have 
been  a  procession  of  the  family  to  the  refuge  of  the  penitent 
Adele,  with  an  enthusiastic  offer  of  the  shelter  and  protec- 
tion of  the  apartment  of  the  quatrieme.  Dick  would  have 
sworn  to  assist  in  tlie  work  of  regeneration,  and  would  have 
actually  believed  in  his  own  power  of  keeping  his  oath. 
Stranger  still,  Mrs.  Clare  and  her  daughters  would  guile- 
lessly and  uncomprehendingly  have  subscribed  thereto  in 
their  turn ;  and  as  for  the  consequences,  none  could  have 
foreseen  them.  Mr.  Wilton's  presence,  however,  prevented 
this  inevitable  sequel  from  taking  place,  and  before  the  pro- 
cession to  Mademoiselle  Adele's  apartment  could  be  organ- 
ized, that  young  person  had  taken  herself  and  Hubert's  five 
hundred  francs  to  pastures  new.  She  disappears  henceforth 
from  these  pages.  Subsequent  to  her  disappearance,  Dick 
went  through  a  phase  of  savage  cynicism  and  misanthropy. 
But  this  is  a  forestalling  of  history.  For  the  present  it  is 
enough  to  know  that  he  is  safely  restored  to  the  bosom  of 
his  family. 

As  for  Mr.  Wilton,  it  was  edifying  to  witness  the  zeal 
which  animated  him  for  the  acquisition  of  the  French  lan- 
guage under  the  guidance  of  the  blue-eyed  seraph's  mother. 


WHAT  EILA  ^YAS  DOING  MEANWHILE.         411 

"  Nothing  on  earth,"  he  vehemently  assured  the  assembled 
family,  "  had  ever  interested  him  so  much  as  the  French 
grammar.  Hubert  isn't  best  pleased  at  my  giving  him  the 
slip,  I  tell  you,"  he  added  confidentially,  "but  I  wasn't  going 
to  throw  away  a  chance  like  that  to  please  him." 

From  the  box  of  Cowa  books  that  still  encumbered  Dick's 
bedroom,  Mrs.  Clare  had  triumphantly  disinterred  a  torn 
volume  of  Ollendorf's  complete  method,  and  a  venerable 
copy  of  Hamel's  exercises.  It  would  have  been  as  much  as 
Jack's  place,  as  pupil,  was  worth  to  suggest  that  he  should 
provide  himself  with  more  recent  and  cleaner  publications. 
In  her  first  enthusiasm  for  her  self -chosen  task,  Mrs.  Clare 
would  suffer  none  but  herself  to  approach  Jack  with  a  gram- 
mar or  exercise-book,  and  the  young  man  found  his  deep- 
laid  schemes  scattered  to  the  winds,  and  himself  rendered 
very  uncomfortable,  one  afternoon  when  Mamy  was  actually 
requested  to  leave  the  room  because  she  laughed  in  concert 
with  him  at  his  unsuccessful  efforts  to  pronounce  a  French 
u.  One  of  the  strongest  symptoms  of  a  sincere  passion  is 
the  desire  to  prove  one's  self  worthy  in  the  eyes  of  the  be- 
loved object,  but  there  were  days  when  Jack  could  have 
cursed  his  fate  for  providing  him  with  no  more  congenial 
field  for  his  exploits  than  the  French  irregular  verbs.  Mrs. 
Clare,  moreover,  was  quite  oblivious  of  the  proverb  that  it 
is  not  fair  to  overwork  the  willing  horse.  Accustomed  to 
measure  the  capacities  of  others  by  those  of  her  own  quick- 
witted though  worldly-unu'ise  ofi^spring,  she  set  her  defence- 
less pupil  tasks  of  appalling  length  to  get  by  heart. 

"  If  it  were  anything  but  French  now  !  "  Jack  said  help- 
lessly one  day,  after  fl.oundering  in  the  vain  attempt  to  con- 
jugate the  verb  bouillir.  But  Mrs.  Clare  was  inflexible. 
The  not  unlikely  hypothesis  that  the  young  man  had  some 
other  end  in  view,  in  the  unfailing  regularity  with  which  he 
came,  than  that  of  merely  learning  to  assert  that  he  "boiled  " 
in  the  subjunctive  mood,  never  suggested  itself  to  her  mind. 
How  Jack  might  regard  her  daughters  did  not  concern  her 
at  present.  Before  and  above  all  he  was  her  pupil,  and  Mrs. 
Clare's  first  aim  in  amateur  teaching  was  to  make  her  pupils 
understand  that  she  was  not  to  be  trifled  with.  Still,  to  pay 
27 


412  NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

vicarious  court  to  tlie  object  of  his  adoration  through  the 
conjugating  of  the  verb  aimer  was  a  pastime  Mr.  Wilton 
had  no  intention  of  continuing  indefinitely.  Never  since 
the  days  when  lie  had  maintained  his  place  as  bottom  boy 
in  the  French  class  at  the  Sydney  Grammar  School  had  his 
mental  powers  been  so  severely  taxed.  Had  it  not  been  for 
those  delicious  intervals  during  which  Eila  made  the  tea, 
and  Mamy  served  it,  and  Jack  could  rest  his  tongue  by  talk- 
ing his  own  language  in  the  form  of  Australian  slang,  he 
told  himself  he  could  never  have  endui'ed  the  strain.  But 
there  were  episodes  that  took  away  all  the  sting  from  his 
task,  as,  for  instance,  when  Mamy  dropped  an  extra  lump  of 
sugar  (she  had  noticed  he  liked  his  tea  sweet)  into  his  cup 
with  her  own  fingers  over  his  shoulder  as  she  went  by.  Jack 
had  to  hold  himself  with  the  strength  of  four,  as  the  French 
say,  not  to  stoop  and  kiss  them.  He  hoped  it  was  not  vanity 
that  made  him  think  Mamy  returned  his  liking  a  little,  but 
he  could  not  help  noticing  that  whenever  his  eyes  rested 
upon  her  (and  somehow  they  were  always  turning  in  her 
direction),  he  was  sure  to  meet  with  an  answering  look  in  a 
second's  time.  He  was  secretly  filled  with  gratitude  to  Hu- 
bert for  taking  himself  ofi',  as  it  gave  him  an  opportunity  of 
inviting  the  family  in  Hubert's  place.  He  found  to  his  great 
joy  that  they  rarely  refused  to  be  "  treated."  Thus,  he  took 
seats  for  them  all  at  the  Opera,  at  the  Fran^ais,  at  the  Vaude- 
ville, at  the  Opera  Comique,  in  the  same  week,  and  insisted 
upon  their  coming  to  a  sumptuous  supper  with  him  after- 
wards. The  family  prestige,  which  had  suffered  severely  in 
the  concierge's  estimation  from  Hubert's  disappearance,  be- 
gan to  mount  higher  than  ever.  Jack  bestowed  royal  tips 
upon  the  evil-looking  pair  for  no  better  reason  than  the  one 
conveyed  in  the  words  of  the  waltz-song,  "  Oh,  be  glad,  my 
heart !  Hilda  "—or  whoever  takes  Hilda's  "  place  " — "  smiled 
to-day." 

To  be  sure,  Jack  could  not  be  credited  with  the  possession 
of  a  ruby,  and  Eila  had  some  misgivings  lest  he  should  be 
spending  his  money  too  freely.  Mrs.  Clare  was  convinced 
that  his  largesses  were  a  delicate  token  of  his  appreciation 
of  his  French  lessons,  and  set  him  longer  tasks  than  ever. 


WHAT  EILA  WAS  DOING   MEANWHILE.         413 

Jack  was  beg-inning  to  dream  of  the  iri-egulai*  vei-bs,  and 
was  convinced  that  his  severe  studies  were  undermining  his 
health.  It  was  time  to  bring  things  to  a  climax,  but  how  ? 
Kind  fate  in  the  shape  of  a  fortunate  accident  sent  him  the 
longed-for  oj^portunity. 

It  was  getting  on  towards  April.  The  Luxembourg 
Gardens  had  broken  out  into  mjTiads  of  tiny  crumpled 
leaves  of  shimmering  green,  over  which  the  family  went 
into  ecstasies  regularly  every  morning  when  the  sun  shone. 
Eila  was  biding  her  time.  Spring  clothes  were  sadly  needed, 
but  she  dared  not  spend  the  money  necessary  to  procure 
them.  On  the  other  hand,  she  had  abstained  from  com- 
municating with  Hubert  since  his  departure,  six  weeks 
previously.  An  occasional  terror  of  the  consequences, 
should  he  disappear  altogether,  weighed  upon  her  at  times ; 
but  the  very  day  her  letter  to  Reginald  should  have  reached 
Tasmania,  a  telegram  from  the  latter  was  handed  to  her 
containing  the  words,  "Plenty  money  coming.  Wait." 
Now  she  could  breathe  freely.  Whence  the  money  was  to 
be  procured  she  did  not  stop  to  inquire.  Perhaps  Reginald 
had  been  fortunate  in  the  mines  (though  it  was  not  like  him 
to  speculate),  or  perhaps  he  had  come  in  for  a  legacy.  In 
any  case  his  assurance  took  away  all  shadow  of  an  excuse 
for  recalling  Hubert  for  the  present.  Eila  even  ventured  to 
invest  in  some  light-hued  material  at  the  Bon  Marche  to 
make  afternoon  and  theatre-going  frocks  for  the  family. 
And  not  only  was  the  money  for  Dick's  attendance  at  the 
studio  regularly  forthcoming,  but  her  constant  effort  was 
to  keep  intact  the  twenty  pounds  she  had  laid  aside  out  of 
her  own  share  of  the  two  hundred  wherewith  to  refund  the 
money  abstracted  by  him  from  Hubert.  Deep  would  have 
been  her  mortification  had  she  known  that  she  was  only 
restoring  to  her  cousin  what  was  his  own,  for  Eila  still  be- 
lieved that  the  five  thousand  francs  she  had  received  from 
the  director  of  the  theatre  had  been  legitimately  awarded 
her  as  the  price  of  the  exhibition  of  her  charms  upon  the 
stage  of  the  Folies-Fantassin. 

But  to  retui-n  to  Jack.  The  accident  that  favoured  his 
suit  was  the  unlooked-for  absence  of  his  taskmistress  one 


414:  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

afternoon  when  he  presented  himself  as  usual  at  the  Boule- 
vard de  rObservatoire  with  his  French  exercises  in  the 
pocket  of  his  great-coat.  Never  did  schoolboy,  with  a 
caning  in  prospect,  rejoice  more  heartily  over  the  provi- 
dential disappearance  of  his  tyrant.  To  add  to  his  delight, 
it  was  Mamy  who,  after  opening  the  door  to  him,  mischiev- 
ously proposed  to  give  him  his  French  lesson  in  lieu  of  her 
mother.  Whether  by  accident  or  design,  young  Mrs.  Frost 
did  not  appear.  Her  voice  in  conversation  with  her  little 
sister,  and  the  snip  of  her  scissors,  were  plainly  heard  in  the 
adjoining  room.  Meanwhile  Jack  found  himself  alone  foi; 
the  first  time  in  his  life  with  the  object  of  his  adoration. 
His  mind  was  made  up.  He  had  only  been  waiting  for  an 
opportunity  to  declare  himself.  Upon  every  occasion  of  his 
seeing  the  blue-eyed  seraph  after  her  first  apparition  at  the 
Louvre  dinner-table,  his  impression  of  her  had  grown 
stronger  and  stronger.  He  thanked  Heaven  that  he  was  a 
rich  man — rich  enough  to  place  the  seraph  in  a  golden 
frame,  and  to  set  up  the  family  properly.  A  year  or  two 
ago  the  most  he  could  have  offered  her  would  have  been  a 
boundary  rider's  hut  on  a  station.  But  times  were  changed 
since  then.  He  had  an  inexhaustible  bank  now  in  the 
bowels  of  the  earth.  Even  his  own  family,  whom  he  had 
also  "  set  up  "  in  the  first  instance,  did  not  know  quite  how 
rich  he  was.  And  excepting  in  the  matter  of  horses  he  had 
no  expensive  tastes.  He  could  not  understand  why  people 
should  spend  so  much  upon  old  pictures  and  china  when 
new  were  to  be  had  at  a  quarter  the  price.  Nor  had  he  ever 
felt  tempted  to  deck  the  triumphal  car  of  some  queen  of  the 
demi-monde  with  golden  trophies.  A  wife  after  his  own 
heart  was  the  object  of  his  worthier  ambition,  and  if  he  in- 
dulged in  any  airy  castle-building  upon  the  strength  of  his 
silver-mine,  it  took  no  more  extravagant  form  than  that  of 
a  dwelling  in  the  Bush  of  princely  dimensions,  with  a  tower 
a  hundred  feet  high,  and  stables  and  loose-boxes  fashioned 
after  the  latest  and  most  approved  models. 

Finding  himself  alone  with  Mamy  this  afternoon.  Jack 
feigned  to  take  her  proposal  to  play  the  part  of  professor  se- 
riously.    He  seated  himself  at  the  table  by  her  side,  stroked 


WHAT  EILA   WAS  DOING  MEANWHILE.         41 5 

his  blonde  moustache  with  a  good-boy  air,  and  produced  his 
exercises  with  becoming'  gravity.  Mamy  performed  her 
own  role  in  the  comedy  with  equal  decorum,  but  her  eyes 
were  dancing  and  the  corners  of  her  lips  were  twitching. 
She  did  not  see  the  mistakes  in  the  laboured  composition 
upon  which  her  eyes  rested.  She  did  not  even  gather  the 
meaning  of  the  words  she  was  looking  at  in  Jack's  hand- 
writing. Though  her  face  was  bent  over  the  paper,  she  felt, 
without  seeing,  that  the  young  man  was  devouring  her  with 
his  eyes.  A  delicious  confusion  was  the  clearest  sensation 
Mamy  was  conscious  of.  Her  hand,  that  lay  palm  down  upon 
the  paper  outspread  on  the  table,  was  trembling.  All  of  a  sud- 
den she  was  aware  that  Jack  had  stooped  down  and  kissed  it. 

Mamy's  face  and  neck  became  in  an  instant  one  great 
burning  blush. 

"  Why  do  you  do  that  ? "  she  whispered,  raising  two  half- 
frightened,  half-acquiescing  eyes  to  his  face. 

"  Because  I  love  you,"  said  Jack  boldly ;  "  I  love  you, 
and  want  you  to  marry  me.  If  I  took  a  month  telling  you, 
it  would  come  to  the  same  thing  in  the  end.  And  you  don't 
dislike  me  altogether,  do  you,  Mamy  ? — I  always  call  you 
Mamy  to  myself.  You've  no  idea  how  much  I  care  for  you, 
I  tell  you.  If  you'll  only  say  you'll  have  me,  I'll  be  the 
happiest  chap  in  creation." 

He  had  not  only  kissed  her  hands  again,  but  had  taken 
them  in  his  own,  and  as  he  pleaded  his  cause  with  hex*,  his 
face  was  very  close  to  hers.  As  Mamy  looked  shyly  into  it 
while  she  listened  to  his  words,  a  great  trust  in  him  grew  up 
in  her  mind.  To  be  sure,  Sydney  Warden  had  been  just  as 
much  in  earnest  when  he  had  asked  her  the  same  question 
in  almost  the  same  way,  but  Sydney's  eyes  did  not  possess 
the  same  magnetic  quality  as  Jack's.  They  awakened  no 
corresponding  message  in  her  own,  the  outcome  of  sensa- 
tions too  deep  and  subtle  for  words.  Mamy  wished  at  this 
moment  that  no  one  in  the  world  had  ever  spoken  of  love  to 
her  before  or  had  kissed  her  hands,  save  Jack.  The  expression 
of  her  face  was  so  complete  and  artless  a  transcript  of  her 
mood  that  the  young  man,  still  holding  her  hands,  bent  for- 
wai'd  instinctively  and  pressed  his  lips  to  hers. 


416  NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

"  My  own  Mamy — my  own  little  girl — you  are  going  to 
say  '  Yes.'' " 

Whether  she  ever  really  said  it  is  still  a  matter  of  doubt. 
In  after  days  Mamy  declared  that  this  "  Yes "  had  never 
been  uttered,  nor  her  consent  formally  given.  That  Jack 
should  have  taken  it  informally  was  perhaps  the  more  ex- 
cusable that  she  had  hidden  her  face  against  his  shoulder 
after  he  kissed  her,  and  in  that  position  it  was  easier  to  take 
a  yes  for  granted  than  to  wait  until  it  was  audibly  pro- 
noiyiced. 

A  j)roj)osal  of  marriage  is  for  the  most  part  the  culmina- 
tion of  the  pleasant  process  variously  described  under  the 
headings  of  courting,  billing  and  cooing,  flirting,  or,  more 
vulgarly,  sjiooning.  This  order  was  reversed  in  Mamy's 
case.  The  proposal  having  come  first,  it  was  wonderful 
how  matters  were  facilitated  for  the  carrying  out  of  the 
earlier  portions  of  the  programme  afterwards.  It  was  more 
interesting  to  Mamy,  however,  than  it  would  probably  prove 
to  the  readers  of  her  biography  to  hear  Jack  retrace  the  ori- 
gin and  progress  of  his  passion.  If  he  had  studied  the  Pla- 
tonic theory,  he  would  have  declared  that  he  had  recognised 
his  other  half  from  the  first  instant  of  beholding  her  fair 
sunburnt  face  at  table  d'hdte.  Mamy,  too,  might  have 
avowed  that  Jack's  glance  had  been  responsible  for  the  un- 
accountable mood  of  seriousness  which  overcame  her  as  she 
descended  the  Louvre  staircase  by  Sydney  Warden's  side 
after  their  laughing-match  at  the  dinner-table.  But  these 
were  confessions  that  were  to  come  later.  At  present  it  was 
joy  enough  to  discover  that  they  had  liked  each  other  (this 
was  Mamy's  way  of  expressing  it,  though  Jack  used  a 
stronger  term  to  deijict  his  own  feelings)  from  the  begin- 
ning. 

"  You  must  let  me  tell  your  sister — now,"  the  young  man 
urged  after  these  avowals  had  been  satisfactorily  commented 
upon. 

"  Oh,  I'm  afraid  she'll  be  angry,"  said  Mamy  anxiously. 

It  had  never  occurred  to  her  to  wonder  whether  Jack 
had  the  means  of  keeping  a  wife ;  and  of  course  that,  and 
the  paramount  consideration  of  whether  he  was  in  a  position 


WHAT  EILA   WAS  DOING  MEANWHILE.         417 

to  help  the  fanaily,  were  the  first  things  the  worldly-minded 
Eila  would  think  of. 

"Why  ?  She  doesn't  want  you  to  be  an  old  maid,"  he 
laughed.  "  She  looks  awfully  nice — quite  worthy  to  be 
your  sister,  in  fact ;  and  that's  the  highest  compliment  I 
could  pay  her." 

"Yes.  But  her  own  marriage  has  been  so  unhappy," 
murmured  Mamy.  Then,  vexed  with  herself  for  prevaricat- 
ing in  intention,  if  not  in  words,  she  added  hurriedly  :  "  No  ; 
it  is  not  for  that.  I  will  tell  you  the  reason  some  time.  And 
— and — if  you  want  to  tell  her  very  much  now,  you  may." 

"  I  will  call  her,  then,"  said  Jack ;  and  he  tapped  at  the 
door  of  separation  and  uttered  a  formal  "  Mrs.  Frost,  may  I 
trouble  you  to  come  for  a  minute  ? "  through  the  keyhole. 

"She  will  be  astonished,"  said  Mamy,  with  a  nervous 
laugh,  as  the  door  opened,  and  Eila,  serene  and  beautiful, 
entered  with  her  thimble  on  her  finger  and  a  threaded 
needle  hastily  stuck  in  the  bosom  of  her  dress. 

"Did  you  call  me,  Mr.  Wilton  ?  " 

"  I  did,  Mrs.  Frost,"  replied  Jack,  with  entire  composure. 
"  I  wanted  to  ask  your  permission  to  introduce  my  future 
wife  to  you."  And  thereupon  he  took  Mamy  by  the  hand 
and  led  her  forward.     "  Won't  you  wish  us  good  luck  ? " 

"  Mamy  !  Mr.  Wilton  !  You  don't  mean  it  ?  What  will 
mother  say  ?    I  can't  believe  you  are  in  earnest." 

Eila  spoke  in  breathless  and  uncertain  tones.  The  an- 
nouncement had  come  so  suddenly  that  she  had  no  time  to 
weigh  the  "  for  "  and  "  against "  with  any  kind  of  certainty, 
or  to  adapt  her  attitude  to  the  result.  To  lose  Sydney  with- 
out hope  of  recovery,  to  forfeit  irretrievably  the  advantages 
of  the  connection  with  the  Warden  family,  was  a  blow  that 
might  well  make  the  against  weigh  down  the  balance  at 
once.  Certainly  Mr.  Wilton  seemed  to  have  money  to  throw 
about  as  he  liked ;  but  young  men  are  so  careless.  He  might 
have  been  living  on  his  capital,  squandering  his  little  for- 
tune all  this  time,  for  anything  Eila  knew  to  the  contrary. 
And  how  deceitful  Mamy  had  been  not  to  tell  her  how 
things  were  shaping ;  for  of  course  she  must  have  known 
for  a  long  time  past  that  Jack  admired  her,  and  that,  for 


418  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

her  own  part,  she  was  ready  to  fling  herself  at  his  head  with 
the  least  encoui*agement  he  gave  her.  Eila  felt  she  had  not 
deserved  to  be  treated  with  so  little  confidence  by  her  sister. 
It  was  not  because,  in  her  anxiety  to  further  Mamy's  own 
interests,  and  perhaps  those  of  the  family  a  little  as  well, 
she  had  favoured  Sydney's  suit  that  she  merited  to  be  treated 
as  a  stranger  now.  Her  voice  was  drier  than  Mamy  had 
ever  heard  it  as  she  said,  after  a  long  pause  : 

"  I'm  afraid  you  are  not  giving  yourselves  time  to  think. 
There  are  so  many  things  to  be  considered.  Mamy  is  still 
very  young ;  and  so  are  you,  for  that  matter,  Mr.  Wilton. 
A  wife  is  sometimes  a  hindrance  to  a  man  in  the  beginning, 
if  he  has  to  make  his  way  in  the  world." 

A  smile  of  understanding  spread  up^j^ards  from  Jack's 
moustache  to  the  corners  of  his  bright  blue  eyes.  He  had 
divined  the  cause  of  young  Mrs.  Frost's  misgivings. 

"  Mamy  will  help  me  to  make  my  way,"  he  said,  with 
cheerful  assurance.  "  I've  got  a  little  selection  out  in  Aus- 
tralia that'll  keep  two  people  very  comfortably ;  and  when 
we've  made  our  pile  we'll  come  back  and  have  another  fling 
in  Paris." 

Eila  directed  a  glance  of  eager  interrogation  at  her 
younger  sister.  A  selector's  *  wife !  Was  that  the  fate  that 
Mamy  could  contemplate  exchanging  in  cold  blood  for  the 
brilliant  position  offered  her  by  Sydney  Warden  ?  A  vision 
of  Mamy  in  a  sun-bonnet,  baking  the  bread  in  a  camp-oven 
outside  a  bark  hut  in  the  Australian  Bush,  in  the  midst  of  the 
heat  and  the  flies,  flitted  instantly  through  her  brain.  And 
the  family  ?  Their  only  resource  would  be  to  drag  them- 
selves to  the  selection  on  foot,  in  the  character  of  sun- 
downers, and  camp  down  round  the  hut  like  a  tribe  of 
primitive  blacks.  Well,  that  might  be  all  they  were  fit  for ; 
but  while  she  was  alive  their  deserts  should  be  meted  out  to 
them  after  another  fashion.  If  the  worst  came  to  the  worst, 
she  could  still  telegraph  to  Hubert,  and  it  would  be  Mamy 
who  had  driven  her  to  take  the  fatal  step. 

*  "  Selector  " — one  who  chooses  or  selects  350  acres  of  good  land  upon 
the  station  of  a  squatter. 


WHAT  EILA  WAS  DOING  MEANWHILE.         419 

When  she  had  left  the  room,  Jack  had  his  arms  about 
his  betrothed  in  an  iiistant.  He  was  so  mucli  taller  than 
Mamy  that  he  had  to  turn  her  face  up  to  his  like  a  child's  in 
order  to  look  into  her  eyes.  If  he  had  dreaded  to  read  any 
reluctance  in  them  upon  the  score  of  the  selection,  her 
bright  glance  reassured  him. 

"  Your  sister  isn't  best  pleased,  I'm  afraid,"  he  said,  in 
tones  of  feigned  concern.  "But  I  know  where  the  shoe 
pinches  :  I'm  not  rich  enough.  Perhaps  I  ought  to  have 
asked  you  first  of  all,  Mamy,  if  you'd  mind  very  much  liv- 
ing in  the  Bush." 

This  time  the  anxiety  was  genuine.  But,  strangely  enough, 
even  the  threat  of  being  exiled  to  the  wilds  of  Australia  did 
not  seem  to  have  the  least  effect  upon  Mamy's  resolution. 

"  And  you'd  live  in  a  slab  hut  with  me  ? "  cried  Jack  in  a 
fervour  of  enthusiasm.  "You'd  give  up  Paris,  and  the 
Fran^ais,  and  Sarah  Bernhardt,  all  for  me  ?  Oh,  my  dar- 
ling, it  beats  me,  I  tell  you !  Well,  I  only  hope  I  may  be 
able  to  reward  you  for  it  some  day  as  you  deserve." 

The  temptation  to  tell  the  truth  was  never  stronger  than 
at  this  moment.  Nevertheless,  Jack  went  away  leaving  his 
betrothed  under  the  impression  that  she  had  pledged  her 
future  to  a  poor  man.  Yet  radiant  as  the  day  Mamy  looked 
as  she  communicated  the  news  to  her  mother,  upon  the  re- 
turn of  the  latter  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening.  The  matter 
was  immediately  discussed  in  family  conclave,  each  one 
giving  a  different  and  personal  opinion.  Jack  was  liked, 
and  heartily,  up  to  a  certain  point,  by  all.  But  Eila  con- 
tended that  there  was  no  reason  why  a  person  who  could 
give  her  heart  to  Jack  should  not  be  able  to  give  it  with 
equal  facility  to  Sydney.  One  wouldn't  be  a  bit  more  inter- 
esting as  a  companion  than  the  other,  she  declared,  and 
"  what  Mamy  can  see  in  Jack  to  make  her  ready  to  sacrifice 
thousands  and  thousands  of  pounds  for  him,  to  say  nothing 
of  ruining  all  the  chances  of  the  family  for  evermore,  I 
can''t  see." 

"  She'll  never  cure  him  of  his  English  accent,  I'll  answer 
for  that,"  said  Mrs.  Clare  gloomily,  "for  its  quite  past  re- 
demption." 


420  NOT  COUNTING  THE   COST. 

The  argument  was  interrupted  by  the  advent  of  a  little 
packet  for  Mamy,  who  coloured  as  she  received  it  into  her 
hands,  remembering  that  Jack  had  insisted  upon  measuring 
her  finger  for  an  engagement-ring  not  two  hours  ago. 

Six  curious  eyes,  to  say  nothing  of  those  of  the  owner 
herself,  were  directed  at  the  little  leather  box  that  Mamy, 
with  a  nervous  smile,  detached  from  its  multifarious  wrap- 
pings. She  turned  it  over.  The  name  of  a  great  Paris  house 
was  printed  in  gold  letters  round  the  lower  rim. 

"How  extravagant!"  said  Eila  indignantly,  "what 
right  has  a  selector  to  go  to  such  a  jeweller's  as  that  ?  " 

But  sheer  astonishment  prevented  her  from  saying  more. 
Mamy  had  lifted  the  ring  from  its  resting-place  upon  a 
mound  of  white  velvet  with  a  half-frightened  look,  and 
slipping  it  upon  her  finger,  silently  thrust  it  forward  for 
approval.  The  length  between  the  two  lower  joints  of  the 
finger  was  covered  by  a  triad  of  jirecious  stones  of  dazzling 
brightness  and  surpassing  beauty.  A  ruby,  a  sapphire,  and 
a  diamond,  of  grand  dimensions  and  blazing  colour,  shone 
and  scintillated  upon  Mamy's  pretty  hand — pretty  with  the 
native  prettiness  of  youth  and  smootliness,  for  the  care  be- 
stowed upon  it  by  its  proprietor  was  of  the  slightest. 

Eila  drew  a  long  breath. 

"  How  too  magnificent !  I  thought  only  queens  could 
have  such  rings.  But  Jack  must  be  out  of  his  senses.  Who 
ever  saw  a  selector's  wife  washing  her  husband's  Crimeans 
with  such  a  ring  on  as  that  ?  " 

Mrs.  Clare  meanwhile  had  fastened  an  eager  gaze  xi^on 
the  ruby. 

"  Why,  I  do  believe  it  isn't  very  far  behind  the  one  Hu- 
bert has  in  his  possession.  It  is  very  strange.  I  really  think 
we  ought  to  make  a  few  inquiries  about  your  young  man, 
Mamy,  my  dear.  I  don't  want  to  frighten  you,  but  there 
have  been  extraordinaiy  cases  of  burglars  passing  themselves 
off  for  gentlemen,  and  we  can't  be  too  careful  in  a  place 
like  Paris." 

"Oh,  but  Hubert  knows  Jack,  mother,"  expostulated 
Mamy  indignantly. 

Mrs.  Clare  raised  her  eyebrows  meaningly. 


EILA'S  REMORSE.  421 

"  I'm  not  too  sure  of  Hubert  himself.  Where  has  he  dis- 
appeared to  all  this  time  and  what  has  he  done  with  the 
ruby  ? " 


CHAPTER  XV. 

eila's  remorse. 

It  was  the  first  Eui'opean  spring  the  Clare  family  had 
seen,  and  indescribably  beautiful  it  appeared  to  their  unac- 
customed eyes.  Despite  the  sudden  clouding  over  of  a  ceru- 
lean April  sky,  and  the  scattering-  of  sleet  and  raindrops 
upon  their  common  umbrella,  the  days  were  few  when  Eila 
and  her  sisters  failed  to  reconnoitre  their  favourite  haunts 
in  the  Luxembourg  Gardens,  and  rhapsodize  over  the  cir- 
clets of  green  that  wreathed  the  black  elm-branches,  or  the 
sheets  of  pink  and  white  blossoms  that  decked  the  apple- 
trees,  planted  espalier-wise,  in  the  orchard  part  of  the  gar- 
den. Jack,  it  is  needless  to  say,  was  invariably  of  the  party, 
though  his  enthusiasm  for  spring  glories  was  less  marked 
than  that  of  his  companions.  Perhaps  he  bestowed  so  much 
upon  Mamy  that  he  had  none  left  to  lavish  upon  Mother 
Nature.  Every  time  he  returned  to  the  hotel,  he  would  tell 
himself  that  the  comedy  had  lasted  long  enough.  Next  day 
he  would  send  rivulets  of  precious  stones  and  mountains  of 
costly  stufPs  to  his  darling.  He  would  tell  her  that  she 
might  choose  a  palace  for  her  habitation,  and  a  four-storied 
manion  for  the  family.  What  would  she  say  when  she 
learnt  that  she  was  about  to  wed  a  silver-king,  and  to  be- 
come in  her  own  sweet  little  person  a  silver-queen  ?  If  she 
had  read  the  papers,  or  been  in  correspondence  with  Aus- 
tralian friends — nay,  if  the  Wardens,  of  whom  she  had 
spoken  to  him  so  often,  had  known  that  she  was  engaged  to 
him — the  knowledge  of  his  wealth  must  perforce  have 
reached  her  ears.  But,  like  the  rest  of  her  family,  Mamy 
dwelt  (as  it  seemed  to  her  lover)  in  a  kind  of  world  of  her 
own.     Not  the  real  world — as  Jack  knew  it  himself,  where 


422  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

men  and  women  nourish  all  sorts  of  worldly  ambitions,  and 
are  tremendously  interested  in  criticising  each  other's  say- 
ings and  doings^ — but  in  a  fancy-world  belonging  to  the 
Clare  family  exclusively,  in  which  it  was  not  necessary  to 
take  any  thought  for  the  morrow,  though  one  might  specu- 
late unendingly  upon  the  mysteries  of  a  far-off  hereafter. 
But  every  day,  after  making  the  aforesaid  resolution,  Jack 
would  defer  carrying  it  out.  It  was  indescidbably  sweet  to 
him  to  obtain  fresh  proof  that  he  was  cared  for  in  the  only 
way  in  which  it  is  worth  being  cared  for  at  all — that  is  to 
say,  for  himself  alone.  He  had  had,  it  is  true,  to  submit  to 
a  cross-examination  concerning  his  princely  gift  of  the 
ring,  but  had  declared  that  the  jewels  were  heirlooms  never 
to  be  parted  with  excepting  in  the  case  of  pressing  necessity, 
and  that  he  had  merely  had  them  reset  for  Mamy,  to  whom 
they  would  belong  henceforth.  Eila  was  quite  sure  now 
that  he  was  recklessly  spending  his  capital,  and  that  he 
would  take  Mamy  back  to  a  selector's  hut,  bare  of  every- 
thing save  a  camp-bed  and  a  tin  basin.  He  was  like  those 
shearers,  she  declared,  who  knock  down  their  cheque  in 
a  week's  orgy  in  town.  It  could  not  be  denied,  however, 
that  Jack's  orgy  was  of  a  highly  respectable  kind.  Mrs. 
Clare  had  washed  her  hands  of  him  as  a  pupil,  and  he 
found  courting  Mamy  a  more  congenial  occupation  than 
the  conjugating  of  the  irregular  verbs.  He  still  invited  the 
family  to  the  theatre,  and  though  they  protested  upon  prin- 
ciple, and  Eila  would  say,  "There  goes  an  easy-chair  for 
Mamy,"  or,  "  You  might  have  had  no  end  of  rugs  for  the 
hut  for  the  money  those  tickets  cost,"  upon  every  fresh  occa- 
sion, they  invariably  ended  by  accepting.  Jack  had  given 
them  but  few  details  concerning  his  family,  who  were  in 
London  at  that  moment.  He  suggested  that  the  wedding 
should  take  place  quietly  in  Paris,  after  which  he  would 
write  to  his  people,  and  announce  that  he  intended  produc- 
ing his  bride  to  them  on  his  way  through  London. 

"  I  always  told  'em  I  should  be  married  that  way  if  I 
ever  married  at  all,"  he  said.  "  My  sisters  are  so  curious.  If 
I  let  out  that  I  was  engaged  they'd  be  wanting  to  come  over 
to  Paris  directly,  and  we  shouldn't  have  a  moment  to  our- 


EILA'S  REMORSE.  423 

selves.  I'm  of  age,  and  I'm  my  own  master.  I  know  what 
I'm  about,  I  tell  you  ; "  and  so  forth. 

The  explanation  of  Jack's  conduct,  which,  however,  he 
did  not  divulge  to  his  Paris  friends,  was  a  fear  lest  the  qua- 
trieme  and  its  inmates  might  reflect  in  the  eyes  of  his  own 
conventional  belongings  upon  the  wife  he  had  chosen. 
When  he  had  Mamy  to  himself  it  would  be  all  right.  And 
meanwhile,  as  fortune  had  decreed  that  he  should  suddenly 
become  a  millionaire,  and  as  father,  mother,  and  sisters  owed 
the  astonishing  circumstance  that  they  had  likewise  come 
into  unexpected  wealth  to  himself  alone.  Jack  considered 
that  he  had  purchased  the  piivilege  of  conducting  his  pri- 
vate affairs  as  privately  as  he  might  please,  and  of  present- 
ing his  bride  to  his  kith  and  kin  after,  instead  of  before,  his 
wedding,  if  such  were  his  good  pleasure. 

Eila,  meanwhile,  was  gi'eatly  exercised  upon  the  question 
of  the  coming  marriage.  Mamy  gone,  there  would  be  one 
mouth  less  to  feed.  Then,  Reginald  had  promised  supplies, 
and  if  she  could  hold  out  until  they  came,  Hubert  might  be 
allowed  to  remain  away  indefinitely.  If  Reginald  had  only 
been  at  hand  to  counsel  her  !  She  waited  with  evei'-increas- 
ing  anxiety  for  the  answer  to  her  letter  to  him.  The  tele- 
gram had  doubtless  contained  the  pith  of  his  arguments,  but 
she  still  had  to  learn  how  her  communication  had  affected 
his  sentiment  for  her.  She  felt  that  things  would  have  been 
easier  if  her  brother  had  behaved  differently,  but  since  his 
return  Dick  had  relapsed  into  a  mood  of  self-concentrated 
gloom  that  made  it  difficult  for  her  to  confide  in  him. 
Mamy's  engagement  seemed  to  have  had  the  unaccountable 
effect  of  estranging  him  from  her  as  well.  He  never  took 
part  in  the  walking,  driving,  or  sight-seeing  expeditions,  and 
only  made  a  concession  in  favour  of  the  theatre  when  he 
had  a  mind  to  see  some  particular  play.  He  seemed  to  take 
it  for  granted  that  money  must  be  forthcoming  when  neces- 
sary, and  Eila  found  a  secret  excuse  for  her  own  weakness 
in  hiding  the  news  of  the  catastrophe  from  him  on  the  plea 
that  it  would  divert  his  mind  from  his  work.  Dick  went 
mechanically  to  the  studio,  but  brought  back  no  more  amus- 
ing tales,  as  in  former  times,  of  the  students.     One  or  two 


424:  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

life-studies  of  a  model's  back  that  his  sister  found  in  cleaning 
his  room  appeared  to  her  unitiated  eyes  marvels  of  promise. 
Who  could  tell  ?  He  might  be  pondering  some  great  work 
in  his  mind,  the  achievement  of  which  would  bring  him 
fame  and  fortune  in  one  glorious  day.  A  favourite  dream 
of  Eila's  at  this  time  was  tliat  the  family  should  discover 
that  the  picture  of  the  year  at  the  Salon  had  been  painted  by 
Dick.  As  by  the  stroke  of  a  magic  wand  they  would  all  be 
lifted  to  a  pinnacle  of  prosperity  immediately,  and  by  what 
a  joyful  means  !  The  vision  was  such  a  fascinating  one  tliat 
Eila  felt  as  though  she  would  have  consented  to  lay  down 
her  life  to  have  it  realized. 

But  there  were  times  when  these  fancies  brought  her  no 
consolation.  In  spite  of  all  her  efforts,  her  little  hoard  was 
fast  melting  away.  She  could  not  accuse  herself  of  extrava- 
gance. The  family  menus  were  very  elementary  and  simple, 
though  the  days  of  bone-broth  and  boiled  eggs  for  dinner — 
or  of  bone-broth  and  bread  alone — were  over.  This  hard 
cash — these  diabolical  little  rounds  of  metal  without  which 
we  may  starve  as  in  a  desert  in  the  midst  of  plenty — were 
beginning  to  be  sorely  needed.  Reginald's  fifty  pounds  had 
gone  to  settle  the  doctor's  bill  for  her  mother's  illness  and 
other  pressing  claims.  Her  own  savings  wei-e  well-nigh  ex- 
hausted. And  yet  while  there  wei-e  so  many  possibilities  of 
rescue,  she  told  herself  that  she  could  surely  have  patience 
for  a  little  while  longer.  A  great  oppression  seemed  to  have 
been  lifted  from  her  daily  life  by  the  absence  of  Hubert.  If 
he  could  but  have  continued  to  play  the  part  of  the  slave  of 
the  lamp  without  wanting  to  appropriate  her,  she  felt  that 
she  would  have  hailed  his  return  with  unfeigned  joy  and 
relief.  But  now  he  appeared  almost  like  an  ogre  lying  in 
wait  to  devour  her.  Another  fancy  she  indulged  in  was  that 
she  would  call  Hubert  back  (and  it  occasioned  her  a  half- 
sympathizing  shudder  when  she  pictured  his  feelings  as  he 
came  to  open  the  telegram  containing  the  words  "Open, 
sesame  !  ")  and  agree  to  all  his  conditions.  He  should  there- 
upon settle  a  sum  upon  the  family  that  would  place  them 
out  of  the  reach  of  vvaiit  for  evermore.  Then  she  would  pay 
her  debt.    He  should  not  be  able  to  say  she  had  cheated  him. 


ELIA'S  REMORSE,  425 

And  tlieii — having  written  a  letter  to  her  mother  and  to 
Reginald— she  would  uncork  that  long-neglected  octagonal 
blue  bottle,  the  gift  of  the  true-hearted  chemist's  assistant  in 
Hobart,  and,  applying  it  to  her  lips,  gasp  away  in  one  short 
second  all  the  burden  of  shame  and  dishonour  and  dreary 
struggle  and  shattered  hopes  that  overcame  and  ruined  her 
life.  The  impossibility  of  providing  Mamy  with  a  suitable 
trousseau  under  the  actual  circumstances  was  another  argu- 
ment in  favour  of  recalling  Hubert.  In  her  lighter  moods 
she  would  pack  an  imaginary  trunk  with  an  imaginary  out- 
fit for  the  Bush.  And  there  was  nothing,  even  to  the  buff 
leather  shoes  for  board-ship  wear,  that  she  neglected  to  take 
account  of  in  filling  in  the  details  of  the  unreal  equipment. 
The  question  of  the  trousseau  was  settled,  however,  unex- 
pectedly one  day  by  no  other  person  than  the  bridegroom- 
elect,  who  disposed  of  it  in  an  oii'-hand  way  that  charmed 
and  terrified  Eila  at  the  same  time.  It  was  upon  the  occasion 
of  his  announcing  triumphantly  that  he  had  succeeded  in 
gaining  Mamy's  consent  to  an  immediate  mai-riage  at  the 
Embassy  under  the  sanction  and  protection  of  English  laws. 

"  Oh !  but  she  has  nothing  ready,"  pleaded  Eila.  She 
was  walking  home  with  her  future  brother-in-law  across 
the  Luxembourg  Gardens,  while  Mamy  and  Truca  hurried 
on  in  front  to  waylay  Dick  on  his  return  from  the  studio. 

"That  doesn't  matter.  We'll  fix  her  up  all  right  after 
the  wedding's  over,"  said  Jack,  with  an  air  of  easy  assur- 
ance. 

"But  she'll  need  so  many  things,"  objected  Eila,  "and 
we  have  to  calculate,  you  know;  and — and  Paris  is  very 
expensive,"  she  added,  crimsoning. 

Jack  feigned  to  look  concerned. 

"  Js  it  ?  Well,  I  suppose  it  can't  be  helped.  Anyhow, 
Mrs.  Frost,  Mamy's  my  property  now,  so  I'll  only  ask  your 
help  in  the  matter  of  advising  her  what  to  choose.  But  if 
she  wants  a  frock  to  be  married  in,  and  a  few  little  things 
at  once,  I've  got  a  hundred  pounds  I'll  ask  you  to  lay  out 
for  me.  You  know  I  can't  get  her  to  take  anything  but  the 
ring  until  we're  man  and  wife.  But  she'll  be  more  reason- 
able by-and-by,  I  expect." 


426  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

Joy  mingled  with  alarm  filled  Eila's  breast.  The  han- 
dling of  a  hundred  pounds  for  immediate  use  on  Mamy's  be- 
half was  such  an  unexpected  realization  of  her  vision  that 
she  looked  steadfastly  at  the  Luxembourg  elms,  with  their 
sprouting  green  leaves,  to  assure  herself  that  they  were  real 
and  tangible.  As  the  leaves  continued  to  flicker  under  the 
April  sun,  and  Jack's  voice  sounded  very  real,  she  concluded 
that  her  dream  was  a  reality,  and  her  next  step  was  to  utter 
the  hesitating  disclaimer : 

"You  won't  mind  if  I  say  something  that  perhaps  I 
ought  not  to  say.  Only  you  do  seem  a  little  careless  about 
money.  Don't  you  think  you  and  Mamy  may  be  very  sorry 
some  day  that  you  spent  so  much  in  Paris  ?  You  know  she 
has  not  a  penny  of  her  own  in  the  world." 

Jack  stroked  his  blond  moustache  with  an  air  of  reflec- 
tion, successfully  concealing  by  this  manoeuvre  the  smile 
that  hovered  round  his  lips. 

"  I  was  never  much  of  a  hand  at  saving,  that's  a  fact,"  he 
said  penitently ;  "  but  you  needn't  be  afraid,  Mrs.  Frost,  I 
assure  you.  I've  no  intention  of  outrunning  the  constable, 
I  tell  you.  Why,  what  do  you  suppose  my  little  selection 
in  New  South  Wales  brings  me  in  a  year  ?  You'll  see  that 
there  is  a  margin  for  putting  by  if  one  cares  about  it." 

Jack  had  yielded  to  a  sudden  and  cliildish  desire  to 
astonish  his  sister-in-law  to  be,  for  once  in  her  life,  by  re- 
vealing to  her  the  real  facts  of  the  case.  Why,  indeed, 
should  he  prolong  the  mystery  any  longer  ?  He  had  re- 
ceived all  the  proofs  his  heart  could  wish  for  that  his  sweet 
little  betrothed  was  marrying  him  for  himself,  not  for  a 
silver-mine  of  the  very  existence  of  which  she  was  ignorant, 
and  as  for  this  lovely  and  enigmatic  young  matron,  whom 
he  had  seen  for  the  first  time  in  the  character  of  an  undress 
figurante  upon  the  boards  of  a  low  theatre,  and  ever  since 
in  that  of  a  pure  household  guardian  angel,  he  was  con- 
vinced that  she  was  as  disinterested,  and  guileless,  and  inno- 
cent, and  generally  helpless,  as  the  remainder  of  her  help- 
less family.  It  would  be  good  fun.  Jack  thought,  to  see  her 
open  those  beautiful  dark  eyes  in  wonder.  And  the  time 
seemed  ripe,  too,  for  conveying  to  her  the  welcome  inforraa- 


EILA'S  REMORSE.  427 

tion  tliat  mere  money  troubles  need  weigh  upon  her  mind 
no  longer,  as  he  had  reason  to  think  that  the  family  was 
suffering  from  peculiarly  straitened  means  at  the  present 
moment. 

"  Well,  you  don't  give  a  guess,"  he  said,  laughing,  as  he 
watched  her  puzzled  expression. 

It  flashed  across  young  Mrs.  Frost's  mind  at  this  mo- 
ment, as  a  kind  of  wild,  unreasoning  hope,  that  perhaps 
Mr.  Wilton  really  was  richer  than  he  had  professed  to  be, 
and  that  the  loss  to  the  family  by  Mamy's  rejection  of 
Sydney  Warden  might  not  prove  so  entirely  disastrous  in 
its  consequences  as  she  had  allowed  herself  to  believe. 

"  I  am  so  stupid  about  money,"  she  observed  diffidently, 
mightily  elated  at  the  same  time  by  the  gleam  of  encourage- 
ment she  detected  in  Jack's  blue  eyes.  "  It  is  a  selection, 
you  say  ?    Six  hundred  acres,  I  suppose  ? " 

"Not  so  much." 

Her  face  fell  a  little. 

"  I  don't  think  one  can  make  very  mu3h  out  of  an  un- 
cleared selection.  It  all  depends  upon  how  much  there  is 
under  cultivation,  and  upon  water  frontage  and  seasons. 
No,  I  should  never  guess,"  a  little  despondingly.  "  From 
two  to  three  hundred  a  year,  perhaps  ? " 

"  Go  on,"  said  Jack  quietly ;  "  I  will  stop  you  when  you 
reach  the  figure." 

"  Four,  then — five,  six,  seven.  Oh,  Mr.  Wilton,  it  can't 
be ;  you  must  be  joking !  Do  you  mean  that  really  you 
make  seven  hundred  a  year  ? " 

"  And  the  rest,"  said  Jack  flippantly.  "  My  dear  Mrs. 
Frost,  you  are  a  long  way  behind  in  your  guesses.  Now,  to 
facilitate  your  calculations,  I  would  suggest  your  counting 
by  thousands.  Begin  at  ten  thousand  pounds,  and  go  on, 
and  on,  and  on — don't  be  afraid — until  I  tell  you  to  stop. 
But,  good  Lord !  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  Don't, 
please ;  I  am  quite  in  earnest  .  .  .  but — but  have  I  said  any- 
thing to  hurt  you  ? " 

"  No — oh  no !  I  can't  help  it ! "  gasped  Eila.  "  Let  me 
sit  down,  please." 

She  was  trembling  all  over,  and  white  as  a  ghost,  and  as 
28 


428  NOT   COUNTING   THE   COST. 

Jack,  much  alarmed,  led  her  by  the  arm  to  a  bench,  and 
pressed  her  down  upon  it  with  brotherly  tenderness,  sobs  of 
hysteric  vehemence  broke  from  her  one  after  the  other  in 
rapid  succession. 

"Are  you  ill?  What  shall  I  do?  Is  it  my  fault?  What 
is  the  matter  ?  Shall  I  run  after  your  sister  and  call  her  ? " 
queried  Jack  breathlessly. 

The  worthy  fellow  hardly  knew  what  he  was  saying  in 
the  terror  occasioned  him  by  Eila's  condition,  in  the  first 
place,  and  by  the  fear  of  seeing  a  gesticulating  French  crowd 
close  around  the  bench  in  the  second. 

"  Oh,  I  am  better,"  sighed  young  Mrs.  Frost  at  last,  pi^ess- 
ing  her  hand  to  her  side  with  unconsciously  theatrical 
effect. 

Tears  had  come  to  her  relief.  She  pulled  out  an  inade- 
quate little  square  of  printed  cotton,  in  the  guise  of  a  three- 
sou  handkerchief,  and  wept  freely  into  it,  holding  it  against 
her  eyes  w^ith  both  hands,  unmindful,  apparently,  of  the 
curious  glances  that,  to  Jack's  immense  discomfiture,  were 
beginning  to  be  directed  towards  them  by  the  passers-by. 

"  That's  all  right ! "  he  said  reassui'ingly,  as  her  sobs  sub- 
sided. "  You'll  be  better  now.  Pull  yourself  together.  I 
suppose  it's  my  fault.  But  how  could  I  dream  you  would 
take  it  that  way  ?  I  never  heard  of  a  person  being  knocked 
over  like  that  before  by  a  bit  of  good  news.     I  tell  you " 

"  A  bit  of  good  news  ! "  repeated  Eila,  laughing  through 
her  tears  in  joyous  derision.  "  Oh,  Mr.  Wilton,  I  may  tell 
you  now.  You've  never  known — you  never  can  have 
known — what  it  is  to  go  through  the  anxiety  that  I  have 
suif  ered  on  account  of  those  you  love  ! " 

"Well,  you  needn't  think  of  it  any  more,"  said  Jack 
soothingly.  "  Mamy  will  set  'em  all  up  nicely.  My  selec- 
tion is  a  silver-mine.  There's  the  explanation  of  the  mystery. 
I  meant  to  let  you  count  up  to  seventy  thousand.  It  brings 
me  in  more  than  that  a  year,  but  I  can't  tell  you  the  exact 
sum.  Anyhow,  you  see  there's  more  than  enough  to  doter 
you  all.     Isn't  that  the  French  word  for  it — eh  ? ' 

Eila  was  silent.  The  quivei'ing  green  was  beginning  to 
look  unreal  once  more.     The  sandy  Luxembourg  soil  seemed 


EILA'S  REMORSE.  429 

to  wave  up  and  down.  Jack's  advice  to  her  to  pull  herself 
together  was,  after  all,  the  best  she  could  follow  at  this  in- 
stant. By-and-by  she  would  be  able  to  think  more  clearly. 
Seventy  thousand !  Seventy  thousand  pounds,  that  was  to 
say  !  Not  francs  ;  Jack  had  clearly  said  pounds.  Besides, 
he  never  counted  in  francs.  Why,  a  little  unconsidered 
trifle  extracted  from  such  a  sum  as  that  (which,  moreover, 
as  it  appeared,  was  merely  the  revenue,  the  interest  on  the 
capital,  not  the  capital  itself)  would  be  enoug-h  to  rid  them 
of  the  nightmare  of  poverty  for  ever.  Was  it  to  her  that 
this  marvellous  piece  of  "  Arabian  Nights  "  luck  had  hap- 
pened ?  Upon  her  and  her  family  that  this  heaven-sent  mir- 
acle had  alighted  ?  If  it  were  so  indeed,  some  unexpected 
catastrophe  must  follow.  Even  in  fairy-stories  such  marvels 
did  not  occur  without  somebody  being  sacrificed.  A.n  earth- 
quake or  a  plague  must  ensue.  Or  one  of  the  family  would 
be  run  over.  From  whatever  quarter  the  thunderbolt 
might  descend,  it  could  not  fail  to  fall  soon.  But,  mean- 
while, might  she  not  indulge  for  one  transient  hour  in  the 
rapture  of  repeating  to  herself  that  her  wildest  dreams,  her 
most  extravagant  castles  in  the  air — higher  than  Jacob's 
ladder  itself — had  been  converted  into  actual  prosaic  facts  ? 
As  for  this  Australian  Jupiter,  who  had  descended  upon  the 
quatrienie  in  a  shower  of  gold,  what  would  he  say  if  he 
could  know  how  hard  she  had  essayed  to  drive  him  away  ? 
With  an  effusiveness  born  of  the  intoxication  of  the  hour, 
Eila  laid  her  hand  on  the  young  man's  arm,  and  said,  half 
laughing,  half  crying : 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Wilton,  I  have  a  confession  to  make  to  you.  I 
was  angry  with  my  sister  for  consenting  so  quickly  to  be 
your  wife.  It  wasn't  that  I  didn't  like  you  and  believe  in 
you.  We  all  did  that.  But  I  thought  you  were  poor — and 
— and  rather  reckless  for  a  poor  man  ;  and  knowing  that 
Mamy  might  make  a  rich  marriage  (I  am  sure  she  has  told 
you  about  it  herself),  I  did  all  I  could  to  persuade  her  not  to 
have  you." 

Her  voice  faltered.  What  would  have  been  her  feelings, 
she  reflected,  if  her  machinations  had  been  successful,  and 
if,  after  driving  Jack  away,  she  had  discovered  too  late  that 


430  NOT   COUNTING   THE   COST. 

slie  liad  closed  the  legitimate  door  of  entrance  to  the  Alad- 
din's cave  for  ever  ? 

Jack,  for  his  part,  appeared  in  no  way  discomposed  by 
the  confession.  Perhaps  in  his  secret  heart  he  was  grateful 
to  the  fair  penitent  for  the  role  she  had  played.  He  an- 
swered her  that  the  only  effect  of  her  story  was  to  make  him 
fonder  of  her  sister  than  ever,  if  such  a  thing  were  possible. 
He  gloried  in  this  fresh  proof  of  Mamy's  disinterested  at- 
tachment, and  pressed  his  companion,  now  that  she  was 
making  a  clean  breast  of  it,  to  tell  him  as  much  as  she 
would  about  the  situation  of  the  family,  and  how  he  could 
be  the  most  useful  to  them. 

"  As  for  your  wanting  your  sister  to  marry  a  rich  fellow," 
he  said  encouragingly,  "  it  was  quite  right  and  natural  of 
you — all  the  more  that  you'd  known  him  all  your  lives, 
while  me  you  didn't  know  from  Adam.  And  I  hope  you'll 
tell  me  how  you're  off  for  money,  and  what  you've  got  to 
depend  on,  and  all  that.  I've  thought  sometimes  you  might 
have  been  badly  in  want  of  a  friend  that  first  night  I  saw 
you — you  know  where." 

Eila  coloured  painfully  at  the  allusion.  She  had  almost 
begun  to  cherish  the  illusion  that  Jack  had  forgotten  the 
circumstances  of  their  first  meeting.  Still,  the  cordial  sym- 
pathy of  his  manner  encouraged  her  to  respond  to  his  ap- 
peal, and  to  make,  as  he  had  said  himself,  a  clean  breast 
of  it. 

Therefore  she  told  him  the  family  history  from  the  be- 
ginning, shielding  mother,  brothers,  and  sisters  from  blame 
by  taking  it  all  upon  herself.  She  was  the  manager,  the 
treasurer,  the  working  head.  It  was  owing  to  her  not  know- 
ing how  to  calculate  expenses  properly  that  they  had  come 
to  grief  in  the  first  instance.  She  had  never  thought  of 
taking  unforeseen  disasters  like  her  mother's  illness  into 
account,  and  when  she  had  appeared  at  the  Folies-Fantassin 
for  the  first  and  last  time,  the  family  was  on  the  verge  of 
starvation.  Then  had  occurred  the  final  and  crushing 
catastrophe  of  the  failure  of  the  insurance  company  whence 
they  drew  their  only  means  of  living.  How  she  had  hidden 
the  disaster  from  her  family,  in  the  hope  of  finding  a  way 


EILA'S  REMORSE.  43I 

of  succour  before  overwhelming  them  with  th^  news ;  how 
she  longed  for  remunerative  work,  but  knew  neither  where 
to  find  it  nor  how  to  set  about  obtaining  it ;  how  Hubert 
had  come  to  the  rescue  for  several  weeks — not  in  a  settled, 
regular  way,  but  by  providing  them  with  restaurant  dinners 
and  pleasures  beyond  their  means  ;  and  how  she  had  wanted 
to  ask  him  to  help  them  in  a  more  practical,  permanent 
fashion,  but  was  afraid  to  do  so  (this  portion  of  her  story 
was  less  explicit  than  the  rest),  she  narrated  in  broken  sen- 
tences, drawing  aimless  patterns  the  while  in  the  gravel  at 
her  feet  with  the  point  of  her  umbrella. 

Jack  listened  as  an  elder  brother  might  have  done,  albeit 
he  was  the  younger  of  the  two.  His  comment  upon  the 
story  was  that  she  had  undoubtedly  been  through  a  rough 
time,  but  if  his  word  went  for  anything,  she  and  her  be- 
longings had  come  to  the  end  of  their  troubles  for  good  and 
all. 

"But  what  beats  wie,"  he  added,  confidentially,  "is  the 
way  your  cousin  behaved.  Why,  he  gets  more  out  of  the 
mine  than  I  do  !  I'd  be  afraid  to  say  what  Hubert  de  Merle 
is  worth  at  the  present  moment,  I  tell  you  ! "  Here  Jack's 
voice  sank  to  an  impressively  mysterious  key.  "  But  he  was 
always  a  peculiar  chap,  though  he  is  awfully  clever — I'll 
say  that  for  him — and  has  been  a  very  good  friend  to  me 
into  the  bargain.  Still,  we  can  get  on  without  Master  Hu- 
bert, if  he  takes  it  into  his  head  to  keep  out  of  the  way.  By- 
the-by,  I  suppose  you  are  the  only  relations  he's  got  in  the 
world  to  leave  his  money  to,  aren't  you  ? " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Eila,  with  a  little  frown  ;  "  I  never 
thought  about  it.  One  does  not  like  to  think  of  people  dy- 
ing for  the  sake  of  getting  their  money.  And  Hubert  is  not 
very  old.     He  might  marry  somebody  still." 

"  Marry  somebody  !  Hubert  ? "  More  eloquent  than  any 
protestation  was  the  incredulous  wonder  conveyed  in  Jack's 
accents.  "  You're  not  in  earnest !  Besides,  he  hates  women, 
and  no  wonder,  poor  fellow  !  " 

A  faint  half -smile  fluttered  i^ound  the  corners  of  Eila's 
pensive  mouth.  She  hastened  to  change  the  current  of  the 
conversation  by  asking  when  Mamy  niight  be  informed  of 


432  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

the  wonderful  destiny  that  awaited  her,  a  destiny  so  won- 
derful, indeed,  that  she  herself  could  hardly  believe,  even 
now,  that  what  Jack  had  just  told  her  was  not  all  a  dream. 

"  I  have  fancied  such  extravagant  things  sometimes," 
she  said.  "  I  began  to  build  castles  in  the  air  when  I  was 
quite  little,  and  though  it  is  so  foolish,  I  like  to  let  myself 
build  them  still.  But  I  never  fancied  anything  half  so  won- 
derful as  what  you  have  told  me  to-day.  What  toill  mother 
and  Mamy  say  ?  I  am  so  wildly  impatient  to  rush  and  tell 
them  this  minute." 

"No;  pray  don't!"  said  Jack  earnestly.  "I  am  keeping 
the  news  for  my  present  to  your  sister  on  our  wedding-day. 
I  don't  know  what  induced  me  to  let  the  cat  out  of  the  bag 
to  you  as  I  did,  but  I  knew  you  were  to  be  trusted.  All  I 
ask  you  is  not  to  say  a  word  about  it  to  your  j)eoi)le  for  the 
jjresent." 

And  Eila  was  fain  to  do  as  Jack  demanded.  She  did  not 
give  the  required  pledge  with  the  best  gi^ace  in  the  world, 
for  the  secret  was  already  burning  to  make  its  escape.  She 
had  carried  the  knowledge  of  evil  times  locked  in  her  breast 
without  any  difficulty,  but  to  bear  a  load  of  joy  unshared  by 
the  family  was  quite  another  thing.  Upon  parting  from 
Jack,  who  was  to  come  and  convey  the  family  to  the  restau- 
rant after  going  to  his  hotel,  she  walked  back  to  the  Boule- 
vard de  I'Observatoire  in  a  kind  of  dream.  She  told  herself 
that  as  the  prospective  sister-in-law  of  an  "  archi-millionaire  " 
she  might  buy  an  English  Times  at  the  paper-shop  where  it 
was  sold  farther  down  the  boulevard,  but,  from  force  of 
habit,  reproached  herself  for  her  extravagance  as  she  drew 
forth  eight  sous  wherewith  to  pay  for  her  purchase.  It  was 
curious,  upon  returning,  to  find  Mamy  on  her  knees  in  the 
kitchen  filling  the  scuttle  with  coke  for  tlie  declining  stove. 
An  involuntary  awe  of  her  sister  as  of  a  princess  in  disguise 
was  Eila's  first  sensation.  She  mentally  compared  her  to 
the  king's  daughter,  in  Grimm's  tales,  who  drove  the  geese 
to  the  pond.  Such  an  imperative  desire  to  seize  Mamy  in 
her  arms  and  shriek  out  the  miraculous  tidings  to  her  there 
and  then  took  possession  of  her  soul,  that  in  the  dread  of 
yielding  to  the  temptation  she  fled  to  her  room,  and,  meet- 


EILA'S  REMORSE.  433 

ing  Truca  on  the  way,  clasped  the  child  to  her  heart  in  a  fer- 
vent embrace.  The  little  girl  had  not  been  used  to  these 
demonstrations  of  late,  and  responded  by  clinging  round 
her  sister's  neck,  until  she  was  lifted  in  the  air  and  carried 
along  in  Eila's  arms  as  in  the  days  of  her  babyhood. 

"  I  shall  lose  my  senses  before  Mamy  is  married,  that  is 
certain,"  said  Eila  to  herself,  but  she  found  an  outlet  for  her 
overpowering  emotions  by  fondling  Truca.  Her  bonnet 
and  boa  laid  by  after  being  carefully  brushed  and  shaken 
(she  had  developed  a  respect  for  her  wardrobe  unknown  in 
the  Cowa  era  of  her  existence),  she  sat  herself  down  to  enjoy 
the  Times,  or,  at  least,  to  make  an  effort  to  recover  her  self- 
possession  by  studying  its  columns.  Vain  attempt !  The 
words  she  read  penetrated  her  brain,  but  took  not  the  slight- 
est effect  upon  her  mind.  She  read  that  there  had  been  an 
earthquake  in  Japan,  whereby  whole  villages  had  been 
swept  away  and  thousands  of  her  fellow-creatures  destroyed  ; 
that  there  were  two  fresh  cases  of  suicide  in  the  German 
army ;  that  a  disastrous  mining  accident,  by  which  seven- 
teen miners  were  killed  and  ten  times  seventeen  entombed, 
had  occurred  the  day  before  in  Wales  ;  and  she  found  her- 
self assimilating  these  tidings  with  no  clearer  sensation  than 
that  of  a  complete  and  half-incredulous  indifference.  She 
could  not  realize  that  men  and  women  should  continue  to 
be  tortured  out  of  an  existence  where  marvels  of  the  kind 
that  had  happened  to  herself  were  possible.  The  Japanese, 
crushed  out  of  life  by  falling  walls,  appeared  to  her  like  far- 
away puppets,  whose  cries  and  groans  had  an  echo  of  un- 
reality. She  laid  down  the  paper,  wondering  at  her  own 
numbness,  and  trying  to  analyze  it,  like  a  person  who  dis- 
covers that  one  of  his  limbs  is  bereft  of  sensation,  and  con- 
siders whether  it  can  be  frozen.  The  heading,  however,  of 
a  telegram  that  caught  her  eye  as  she  took  up  tlie  paper 
again  brought  back  the  apprehension  of  real  things  with  a 
rush.  The  words  ran,  ^' Fatal  Drowning  Accident  at 
Cannes,^''  and  in  the  same  paragraph  the  name  of  Warden 
seemed  to  leap  out  of  the  printed  page  and  imperiously 
claim  her  attention.  How  she  read  the  paragraph  to  the 
end  witliout  crying  out  or  attracting  Truca's  notice  by  an 


434  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

involuntary  ejaculation  of  dismay  was  a  fact  she  wondered 
at  afterwards.  Was  this,  she  asked  herself,  the  first  warn- 
ing of  the  approach  of  the  malignant  Nemesis  she  had 
dreaded  ?  The  telegram  narrated  in  unsympathetic  news- 
paper style  the  death  hy  drowning  of  a  young  Englishman 
of  the  name  of  Warden,  staying,  in  company  with  his 
mother  and  sister,  at  the  Hotel  Metropole  at  Cannes.  He 
had  gone  out  alone,  as  it  ajipeared,  in  a  sailing  hoat,  and  it 
was  conjectured  that  he  had  been  imprudent  enough  to 
allow  himself  to  fall  asleep  after  making  his  sail  fast,  for 
those  who  had  observed  the  accident  from  the  shore  declared 
that  the  boat  had  capsized  because  the  sail  had  not  been  let 
out  at  a  critical  moment.  The  body  of  the  victim  had  been 
recovered  entangled  in  the  sail.  Had  it  not  been  for  this 
circumstance,  he  might  have  been  easily  rescued,  for  though 
the  boat  was  far  out,  those  who  had  witnessed  the  disaster 
from  the  shore  had  put  out  immediately  to  its  assistance. 

The  paper  dropped  from  Eila's  fingers ;  she  covered  her 
eyes  with  her  hands,  pressing  her  palms  into  the  sockets 
and  swallowing  down  the  hysteric  lump  that  rose  unbidden 
in  her  throat.  A  terrible  and  unreasoning  fear  had  seized 
her — the  fear  that  Sydney  had  gone  voluntarily  to  his  death 
under  the  blue  Mediterranean  waves.  How  tenfold  moi'e 
awful  the  vision  of  his  sturdy  form,  rigid  in  its  coffin,  would 
appear,  if  Mamy  or  she  had  ever  so  remote  a  share  in  bringing 
it  there  !  But  Mamy's  share  was  as  nothing  compared  with 
her  own.  Had  she  not  in  her  insatiable  desire  to  lure  money 
into  the  family  prevented  her  sister  from  discarding  Sydney 
once  and  for  all,  and  done  her  utmost  to  keep  him  in  the 
toils  ?  Perhaps  the  news  of  Mamy's  engagement  had  come 
when  his  hopes  were  highest,  and  the  sudden  and  unex- 
pected blasting  of  them  had  driven  him  to  take  his  life  in  a 
moment  of  desperation.  Yet  to  couple  Sydney's  image  with 
suicide  appeared  both  monstrous  and  improbable.  To  con- 
nect it  with  death  was  hardly  possible.  Eila  immediately 
resolved  to  conceal  the  news  from  her  sister  until  the  wed- 
ding was  over.  She  could  not  answer  for  the  effect  it  might 
have  upon  Mamy.  What  if  it  should  produce  a  revulsion 
of  feeling  towards  Jack — cause  Mamy  to  put  off  the  wed- 


EILA'S  REMORSE.  435 

ding,  or  take  some  other  ill-considered  step  prejudicial  to 
lier  marriage  ?  No !  In  her  own  interest  Mamy  nuist  be 
kept  in  ignorance  of  the  fatal  tidings  until  she  should  be 
safely  anchored  in  the  harbour  of  matrimony.  By  warning 
Jack,  and  looking  over  the  papers  and  letters  addressed  to 
the  quatrieme,  Eila  reflected  that  she  might  tide  over  the 
next  few  days  until  the  risk  of  a  catastrophe  was  averted. 
She  therefore  cut  out  the  cokimn  containing  the  account  of 
the  disaster,  and,  after  reading  it  over  once  more  with  a 
heavy  heart,  tore  it  into  bits  and  scattered  it  to  the  winds  of 
heaven.  Mamy  was  wai-bling  recklessly  as  she  moved  about 
the  adjoining  room,  and  the  shrill  gay  notes  jarred  upon 
Eila's  ears,  in  which  a  sea-dirge  would  have  sounded  more 
fitting  at  the  present  moment. 

"  Mamy ! "  she  called  sharply  through  the  door  that 
opened  into  the  adjoining  room,  "stop  yelling  a  moment 
and  answer  me.  Did  you  write  to — to  Cannes  to  say  that 
you  were  engaged  ?  " 

"Yes,"  shouted  Mamy,  bi-eaking  into  a  fresh  warble  an 
instant  later. 

"  You  did  ?  Can't  you  be  quiet  for  a  moment  ?  And  did 
you  receive  an  answer  ? " 

"No." 

Here  a  roulade,  accompanied  by  a  sound  as  of  the  rak- 
ing out  of  coals,  caused  Eila  to  say  more  sharply  than  ever : 

"  Mamy,  you  will  drive  me  mad !  When  did  you  post 
the  letter  ?    Is  there  time  for  you  to  have  had  an  answer  ? " 

"I  don't  knovi^,"  called  out  her  sister;  "I  don't  think  so. 
"What  does  it  matter  ? " 

"  Matter  ? "  retorted  Eila  bitterly ;  "  nothing  to  you,  per- 
haps." The  last  three  words,  however,  were  uttered  sotto 
voce.  Nor  did  the  speaker  believe  in  her  own  mind  that 
there  was  any  real  foundation  for  them.  The  proof  lay  in 
the  care  she  took  that  the  fatal  news  she  had  learned  should 
not  travel  any  farther.  It  was  with  a  feeling  as  of  one  who 
commits  a  real  crime  that  she  intercepted,  two  days  later,  a 
black-edged  envelope  addressed  to  her  sister  in  Mrs.  War- 
den's handwriting.  If  the  letter  it  contained  should  reach 
the  person  to  whom  it  was  addressed,  farewell  to  the  joyous 


436  NOT   COUNTING   THE   COST. 

anticipations  of  the  bridal  ceremony  fixed  for  the  ensuing 
Monday.  The  news  of  the  death  of  her  rejected  lover  ar- 
riving in  answer  to  the  letter  announcing  her  engagement 
to  Jack  would  distress  Mamy  beyond  measure.  Yet  the 
letter  might  be  of  a  kind  that  required  an  immediate  an- 
swer. Eila  turned  the  lugubrious  missive,  with  its  deep 
black  border,  over  and  over  in  her  hands  before  she  could 
summon  the  resolution  to  open  it.  Granted  that  she  knew 
exactly  how  matters  stood,  granted  even  that  Mamy  would 
have  been  the  first  to  bid  her  read  tlie  letter  had  she  been 
by,  the  role  of  spy  was  odious  and  distasteful  to  her.  But 
the  end  must  justify  the  means.  "I  will  say  just  what  I 
did,  and  why  I  did  it,  when  the  time  comes,"  she  repeated 
to  herself,  and  so  saying  deliberately  unfastened  the  en- 
velope. It  startled  her  to  draw  therefrom  an  open  letter  in 
Mamy's  own  handwriting.  This,  at  least,  she  could  have 
no  right  to  examine,  as  the  writer  had  not  taken  her  into 
her  confidence  respecting  the  contents.  There  was  a  second 
letter,  however,  in  Mrs.  Warden's  handwriting,  and  it  was 
with  an  ever-increasing  sense  of  guilt  that  Eila  unfolded  it 
and  read  as  follows : 

"  My  dear  young  Friend, 

"  A  heart-broken  mother  returns  you  the  enclosed 
letter  addressed  to  her  beloved  son.  It  was  put  into  my 
hands  the  evening  of  the  day  when  the  awful  event  took 
place.  I  have  been  too  utterly  prostrated  to  write  before, 
and  Lucy,  poor  girl !  is  almost  beside  herself  with  grief.  I 
had  no  idea  the  letter  was  from  you  until  I  opened  it,  and 
discovered  to  my  intense  surprise  that  my  poor  dear  lad 
had  requested  the  honour  of  your  hand,  and  that  you  had 
deemed  it  exjiedient  to  refuse  him,  having  pledged  your 
affections  to  another. 

"  He  might  have  taken  his  mother  into  his  confidence, 
for  what  should  I  have  considered  but  his  happiness  ? — 
though  doubtless  I  should  have  advised  him  to  wait,  and 
you  too,  being  both  somewhat  young  to  know  your  own 
minds.  Biit  it  is  no  use  referring  to  that  now.  If  I  were 
able  to  think  of  anytliiug  but  the  awful  calamity  that  has 


EILA'S  REMORSE.  437 

befallen  us,  I  would  congratulate  you  on  your  engagement 
to  Mr,  Wilton,  who,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  has  an  interest  in 
the  great  Gunga  silver-mine.  But  perhaps  it  is  another 
Mr.  Wilton.  If  anything  could  bring  us  the  least  spark  of 
consolation  in  our  dreadful  trial,  it  would  be  the  great  kind- 
ness and  sympathy  shown  us  by  our  fellow-travellers  at  tlie 
hotel,  many  of  them  peoi)le  of  title.  Lady  Alice,  an  un- 
married second  daughter  of  an  Irish  peer,  is  devoted  to  my 
poor  Lucy.  I  think  (but  this  is  quite  between  ourselves) 
that  she  has  special  reason  for  sharing  in  our  grief.  With- 
out being  exactly  a  lady's  man,  dear  Sydney  was  very  popu- 
lar with  our  sex.  I  know  that  your  mother  and  sisters  and 
brothers  will  feel  for  us  in  our  profound  affliction.  We  are 
not  without  the  comforting  ministrations  of  the  chaplain, 
the  Honourable  Mr.  Bene,  but  it  is  hard  to  say  '  God's  will 
be  done '  in  these  cases. 

"  Yours  sincerely  in  great  grief, 

"Arabella  Warden. 

"  P.  S. — Perhaps  you  have  not  heard  the  terrible  news.  I 
fancied  everybody  must  know.  Our  beloved  Sydney  was 
drowned  by  the  capsizing  of  a  boat  that  he  must  needs  go 
sailing  in  by  himself  on  the  afternoon  of  the  11th.  There 
was  an  account  of  the  disaster  in  the  Times,  and  most  of  the 
English  and  foreign  papers  as  well." 

Maray's  letter,  which  Eila  next  perused,  vipon  the  well- 
known  principle  that  you  may  as  well  be  hung  for  a  sheep 
as  for  a  lamb — a  jirinciple,  by  the  way,  which  is  occasionally 
responsible  for  carrying  us  much  farther  than  we  intended 
to  go — was  a  short,  frank,  kindly  epistle  wherein  the  writer 
referred  gratefully  to  Sydney's  constant  attachment,  but  de- 
clared that  it  was  impossible  now,  as  it  had  been  from  the 
beginning,  to  feel  towards  him  otherwise  than  as  a  sister. 
She  briefly  announced  her  engagement  to  Jack  Wilton,  and 
concluded  with  the  trust  that  Sydney  would  find  .someone 
to  care  for  him  as  he  deserved. 

"  There  are  so  many  girls  better  looking  and  better  edu- 
cated than  I  am,"  concluded  the  writer  naively;  "it  will 


438  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

not  be  hard  for  you  to  find  a  wife  of  that  sort,  and  as  long 
as  I  live  I  shall  always  remain,  your  sincere  and  grateful 
and  affectionate  friend,  Mamy  Clare." 

Two  sensations  resulted  to  Eila  from  her  secret  perusal 
of  the  intercepted  letters.  The  first  was  a  great  and  over- 
whelming sense  of  relief  at  the  certainty  that  Sydney  had 
never  known  the  fact  of  her  sister's  engagement,  and  the 
second  and  less  amiable  sensation  was  a  secret  sense  of  tri- 
umph induced  by  the  reflection  that  Mrs.  Warden  had  now 
the  pi-oof  that  a  member  of  tlie  despised  Clare  family  had  re- 
fused the  hand  of  her  son.  To  grieve  keenly  for  the  strong 
young  life  cut  off  in  its  prime  was  not  in  Eila's  power.  Her 
own  experiences  had  led  her  to  attach  but  little  value,  the- 
oretically, to  the  boon  of  existence.  In  her  pessimistic  moods, 
the  grammatical  definition  which  makes  the  verb  "  to  be  " 
synonymous  with  the  vei*b  "  to  suffer  "  appeared  to  her  true 
in  a  deeper  sense  than  that  attributed  to  it  by  Lindley  Mur- 
ray. Nevertheless,  she  felt  that  the  vision  of  Sydney's  dead 
face,  with  the  sea  washing  over  it,  and  the  obstinate  hair, 
that  would  never  lie  straight,  swaying  up  and  down  beneath 
the  waves,  would  haunt  her  imagination  for  many  a  day  to 
come.  She  did  not  believe  that  Mrs.  Warden's  grief  would 
be  incurable.  A  mother  whose  heart  was  really  broken 
would  have  no  thought  to  s^jare  for  Lady  Alices  and  Hon- 
ourable Mr.  Benes.  She  considered,  indeed,  that  of  all  those 
who  had  known  and  loved  Sydney,  his  own  family  not  ex- 
cepted, Mamy  would  mourn  for  him  in  the  most  whole- 
hearted fashion.  For  herself,  she  could  not  deny  that  the 
extent  of  her  grief  was  greatly  influenced  by  the  relation 
in  which  he  stood  to  her  family.  If  he  had  still  represented 
the  goal  of  her  ambition  for  Mamy,  she  felt  that  she  would 
have  reasoned  less  philosophically  about  the  doubtful  advan- 
tage of  being  cut  off  in  the  flush  of  early  manhood,  while 
one  had  health  and  wealth,  and  friends  in  plenty  to  make 
life  so  well  worth  living.  How  to  answer  Mrs.  Warden's 
letter  was  the  problem  that  diverted  her  mind  from  the 
afore-mentioned  unsatisfying  reflections.  Once  you  engage 
yovirself  on  the  i)ath  of  deceit,  it  is  astonishing  how  circura- 


EILA'S  REMORSE.  439 

stances  arise  to  lead  you  on.  Evidently  there  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  answer  Mrs.  Warden  in  Mamy's  name. 

"A  little  more,  and  I  should  forge  her  handwriting," 
Eila  said  to  herself  bitterly  ;  "  but  slie  will  forgive  me,  she 
must  forgive  me,  when  she  l<;nows  why  I  acted  so." 

Fortified  by  this  reflection,  young  Mrs.  Frost  stole  down 
the  staircase  a  couple  of  hours  later  carrying  a  letter  ad- 
dressed to  the  Hotel  Metropole,  Cannes,  which  she  posted 
with  her  own  hands.  She  was  not  wholly  dissatisfied  with 
her  composition.  In  alluding  to  Sydney's  death,  and  re- 
membering that,  after  all,  it  was  to  Sydney's  own  mother 
she  was  writing,  a  natural  impulse  of  sympathy  had  come 
spontaneously.  She  had  felt  herself  capable  of  shedding 
tears  of  real  emotion  if  she  had  encountered  Mrs.  Warden 
at  the  moment  of  writing,  and  words  of  teiider  regret  for 
the  dead,  and  genuine  pity  for  the  living,  flowed  unsought 
from  her  pen.  To  excuse  Mamy  from  writing  upon  the 
score  of  the  shock  she  had  received  in  the  midst  of  her 
bridal  preparations  seemed  fitting  enough,  and  so  used  was 
Eila  now  to  her  self-assumed  role  of  arch-plotter,  in  behalf 
of  the  welfare  of  the  family,  that  the  remorse  induced  by 
her  own  deceit  was  forgotten  as  soon  as  her  letter  was  jiosted. 
But  she  thought  the  matter  over  on  her  return,  as  she 
mounted  the  sixty  odd  steps  that  were  to  land  her  upon  the 
quatrieme. 

"  What  aim  have  I,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  excepting  to 
spare  Mamy  and  the  rest  unnecessary  pain  and  distress  ?  If 
the  little  deceit  I  practised  fulfils  this,  and  is  only  temporary, 
why  need  I  torment  myself  about  it  ?  It  is  only  if  it  should 
fail,  and  I  were  found  out,  that  I  should  feel  I  was  to  blame, 
since  the  sole  justification  for  deceiving  is  that  the  deceit 
should  be  skilful  enough  to  be  entirely  successful." 


440  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

AN  UNEXPECTED   ARRIVAL. 

Whence  the  sword  of  Damocles  that  Eila's  imagination 
had  forged  was  to  descend  uj^on  the  quati'ieme  before  the 
day  fixed  for  Mamy's  wedding,  she  herself  could  not  have 
told.  But  it  is  a  fact  that  she  never  got  up  in  the  morning 
without  a  fresh  terror  of  what  the  coming  fourteen  hours 
were  to  bring,  and  never  went  to  bed  at  night  without  a  feel- 
ing of  relief  and  elation  at  the  reflection  tliat  another  day 
had  been  safely  lived  through.  When  the  great  morning 
actually  arrived,  she  could  not  deny  that  Fortune  had  played 
into  her  hands.  Mamy,  indeed,  had  been  heard  to  wonder 
occasionally  at  Sydney's  obstinate  silence  in  view  of  the 
news  she  had  sent  him. 

"  I  suppose  he  is  sulking,"  she  remarked  to  Eila  on  the 
morning  of  her  wedding,  a  remark  which  made  young  Mrs. 
Frost  wince  inwardly.  "  I  thought  better  of  him,  all  the 
same,  and  I  shall  tell  him  so  too,  next  time  I  see  him." 

This  was  the  only  allusion,  however,  made  by  the  bride 
to  her  former  lover.  An  hour  later  she  had  forgotten  Syd- 
ney's existence,  as,  arrayed  in  the  white  cashmere  that  Eila 
and  she  had  selected  for  the  occasion,  she  sat  in  state  by  the 
Avindow  of  the  reception-room  waiting  for  the  arrival  of  the 
bridegroom.  Jack  had  no  clearer  notions  respecting  the 
etiquette  of  courtship  and  marriage  than  Mamy  herself,  and 
could  not  be  withheld  from  accompanying  the  bride  and  her 
family  to  his  own  wedding.  Mamy  waited  for  him,  there- 
fore, in  her  bridal  bravery,  "  clothed  in  white  samite,  mystic, 
wonderful,"  with  her  heart  beating  recognisably  faster  than 
usual.  Eila  had  insisted  upon  engaging  the  services  of  a 
theatrical  hairdresser,  who  had  utterly  transformed  the 
seraph  head  by  gathering  the  rebellious  locks  into  a  structure 
designated  as  a  coiffure  a  la  Henri  quatre.  The  air  of  step- 
ping out  of  an  old-world  court  that  it  conferred  upon  Mamy 
enchanted  her  elder  sister,  who  could  hardly  find  words  in 
which  to  express  her  admiration. 

" '  To  grace  a  cottage  or  adorn  a  palace.'    How  does  it  go  ? 


AN  UNEXPECTED  ARRIVAL.  441 

That  is  what  yoii  look  fit  for  now,  Mamy  !  What  will  Jack 
say  ?  Your  hair  is  all  turned  back  into  a  lovely  square 
fi'om  your  forehead,  and  your  head  looks  so  exquisitely 
small  and  shapely.  You  should  always  have  it  done  like 
that — upon  great  occasions,  at  least,  you  know— and  wear 
pearl  ornaments  with  it." 

"  To  be  sure — when  there  is  a  sheep  sale  at  the  selection, 
for  instance,"  laughed  Mamy. 

"  Yes,  when  there  is  a  sheep  sale,"  assented  Eila  glee- 
fully, but  with  such  a  meaning  air  that  Mamy  said  quickly  : 

"  I  am  sure  you  know  something  you  haven't  told  me, 
Eila.  I  believe  Jack's  selection  is  quite  a  big  station,  for  I 
noticed  that  all  of  a  sudden  you  grew  quite  reconciled  to  the 
match.  You  would  never  have  changed  so  if  you  did  not 
think  Jack  better  off  than  he  says." 

"  He  will  tell  you  all  about  it  himself,  dear,  by-and-by," 
was  Eila's  complacent  reply. 

Despite  her  efforts,  she  could  not  restrain  a  certain  tremu- 
lous note  of  triumph  from  vibrating  in  her  voice.  Her  high- 
est air-castle  was  on  the  point  of  becoming  a  tangible  fact. 
The  fairy  prince  had  assumed  the  shape  of  a  real  flesh-and- 
blood  suitor,  and  little  penniless,  Bohemian  Mamy,  without 
introductions  into  society,  without  money  or  accomplish- 
ments or  influence  of  any  kind,  had  landed  what  was  per- 
haps the  greatest  prize  of  the  year  in  the  matrimonial  mar- 
ket. At  present  she  had  no  conception  of  the  significance  of 
money.  "  A  thousand  pounds  or  a  hundred  thousand  must 
bear  almost  equal  proportions  in  her  eyes,  but  she  will  soon 
learn,"  said  Eila  to  herself.  "  Wait  until  she  and  Jack 
throw  off  their  incognito  and  appear  as  silver-king  and 
silver-queen  in  London  or  Paris,  with  a  magnificent  house, 
and  a  yacht,  and  carriages,  and  lackeys  in  livery.  Then 
Mamy  will  see  what  the  possession  of  millions  signifies  in 
the  world.  What  a  mighty  influence  it  will  give  them,  too ! 
Only  she  and  Jack  have  no  ambition.  I  think  Mamy  will 
want  to  help  everybody  who  comes  begging  of  them.  But 
of  coui'se  she  will  think  of  us  all  first ;  and  afterwards,  if 
she  likes  to  lay  aside  ten  or  twenty  thousand  a  year  for 
charity,  I  am  sure  it  would  be  enough,  and  she  and  Jack 


44:2  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

might  enjoy  the  rest  of  their  income  to  their  hearts'  con- 
tent." 

Ai^ropos  of  "  all  of  us,"  Mrs.  Clare  had  not  been  forgotten 
in  the  pi'ej)arations  for  celebrating  her  daughter's  marriage. 
Jack's  hundred  pounds  had  been  transformed  by  Eila  into 
such  multifarious  packages  of  wearing  apj)arel  of  every  de- 
scription (the  nucleus  of  the  bride's  trousseau  being  included 
therein)  that  for  the  entire  week  preceding  the  wedding  a 
constant  procession  of  blue-coated,  nickel-buttoned  emissaries 
from  the  Bon  Marche  and  Louvre  crossed  each  other  on  the 
staircase  that  led  to  the  qiiatrieme.  The  enigmatic  family 
d'outre-mer  assumed  a  place  in  the  imagination  of  the  con- 
cierge pair  that  bordered  on  the  miraculous.  While  unend- 
ing parcels,  for  which  cash  had  evidently  been  paid,  flowed 
in  an  unbroken  stream  into  the  apartments,  the  members  of 
this  extraordinary  family  might  still  be  seen  waxing  the 
floor  of  the  quatrieme,  or  running  out  in  shabby  attire  to  a 
neighbouring  shop  for  eggs.  One  day  they  drove  out  in 
splendour ;  on  the  morrow  they  dined  upon  bread  and  broth 
at  home.  Their  mysterious  protector  with  the  hump  and 
the  Rubens  cloak  had  disappeared,  and  morning,  noon  and 
night  the  daughters  might  be  seen  in  the  company  of  a 
young  man  who  treated  them  with  all  the  respect  due  to 
"de  veritables  grandes  dames,"  yet  was  evidently  their  pro- 
tector in  his  turn.  Whence  came  their  mysterious  wealth  ? 
and  might  not  a  certain  portion  of  it  be  diverted  from  the 
qiiatrieme  to  the  loge  below  ?  Many  w^ere  the  conversations 
exchanged  between  the  evil-looking  pair  upon  this  theme. 
Letters  which  might  possibly  contain  some  compromising 
statement  that  could  be  turned  to  profit  were  detained  and 
examined.  Alas !  they  w^ere  all  written  in  the  barbarous 
English  tongue.  It  was  a  question  daily  mooted  whether 
allies  might  not  be  found  in  the  police,  when  the  crowning 
wonder  of  all  took  place  in  the  actual  undoubted  marriage 
of  "la  rousse,"  as  Mamy  w^as  called  in  the  concierge  vocabu- 
lary, to  the  blue-eyed  young  man  who  had  accejited  the  suc- 
cession of  the  "  bossu."  The  concierges  were  only  made 
aware  of  this  astonishing  event  when  the  wedding-party  re- 
turned from  the  ceremony  at  the  Embassy.    True,  they  had 


AN  UNEXPECTED  ARRIVAL.  443 

seen  the  bridegroom  drive  to  the  door  in  a  carriage  and  pair, 
and  run  four  by  four  up  the  staircase.  The  woman's  quick 
eyes  had  also  detected  tiie  presence  of  an  orchid  in  the  but- 
ton-hole of  an  immaculate  frock-coat.  Half  an  hour  later 
the  enigmatic  family  had  accompanied  the  visitor  down  the 
staircase  which  the  coiffeur  had  previously  mounted  early 
in  the  morning,  mother  and  daughters  Avearing  an  attire 
which  was  described  to  the  neighbours  as  "  epatant."  Mrs. 
Clare,  as  I  have  stated  before,  had  not  been  neglected,  and 
when  Jack  passed  liis  wife's  family  in  review  before  con- 
ducting them  to  the  carriages  waiting  below,  he  mentally 
compared  tliem  with  Mrs.  Wilton  senior  and  the  Misses 
Wilton,  to  the  manifest  disadvantage  of  the  latter.  There 
was  beauty  enough  among  them,  he  thought,  to  stock  a 
hundred  ordinary  households.  Happiness,  too,  is  an  amaz- 
ing beautifier.  The  wonderful  and  unexpected  clearing 
away  of  the  nightmare  that  had  weighed  upon  Eila  had 
lent  a  new  radiance  to  her  expression.  All  that  Hubert 
could  have  given  her,  and  more,  had  come  into  possession 
of  the  family ;  and  the  means  by  which  it  had  come  might 
be  proclaimed  openly  upon  the  housetops.  She  had  not 
dared  to  believe  in  so  miraculous  a  turn  of  Fortune's  wheel. 
For  a  whole  hour  before  Jack  was  to  be  looked  for  on  the 
wedding  morning  her  heart  had  begun  to  fail  her  with  terror 
at  his  non-appearance.  Even  when  he  arrived,  jubilant, 
with  a  magnificent  bunch  of  orchids  in  a  cardboard  box  for 
Mamy,  she  was  only  partly  reassm*ed.  Something  would 
certainly  happen  before  the  wedding-party  was  deposited  at 
the  Embassy.  The  horses  would  fall  down,  or  some  one 
would  be  taken  ill.  Even  when  the  perilous  journey  was 
successfully  accomplished,  and  the  ceremony  had  begun  in 
real  earnest,  an  agonizing  terror  overcame  her  lest  that 
mysterious  personage  w^ho  in  novels  and  plays  forbids  the 
banns  at  the  supreme  moment  should  siiddenly  appear  upon 
the  scene.  But  neither  in  this  nor  in  any  other  form  did 
the  sword  of  Damocles  descend.  The  bride  and  bridegroom 
lent  themselves  to  the  performance  with  a  confiding  serenity 
that  spoke  volumes  for  their  trust  in  each  other  ;  and  Willie, 
who  had  been  summoned  from  London  to  the  wedding,  and 
29 


444  NOT   COUNTING  THE  COST. 

who  had  much  more  in  common  with  his  future  brother-in- 
law  than  Dick,  jilayed  the  part  of  ekler  brother,  and  gave 
away  the  bride  as  though  he  had  done  nothing  but  marry 
sisters  all  his  life.  He  had  only  arrived  upon  the  morning 
of  the  wedding,  and  was  tlierefore  less  splendid  than  the 
rest  of  the  party,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  Eila  had 
sent  him  five  pounds  to  London  wherewith  to  array  himself 
suitably. 

The  return  of  the  wedding-party  to  the  quatrieme  was 
conducted  with  the  same  disregard  of  official  precedent  as 
the  departure.  Eila  and  Truca  took  their  places  in  the  large 
closed  landau  of  the  bride  and  bridegroom,  who  sat  upon 
opposite  seats,  holding  each  other's  hands,  and  looking  far 
more  like  a  suddenly  rejuvenated  Darby  and  Joan  than  a 
young  couple  who  had  only  just  been  made  man  and  wife. 
Mute  pagans  were  rising  from  Ejla's  heai-t  as  she  drove  along. 
Could  it  be  that  the  pale  spectre  of  Want  had  been  driven 
from  the  family  hearth  for  ever  ?  She  looked  at  her  brother- 
in-law's  sunny  face  with  a  reverential  wonder  as  at  that  of 
some  Heaven-sent  deliverer.  Truca  for  her  part  gazed  sol- 
emnly at  the  wedded  pair,  revolving  the  marriage  problem 
from  her  own  childish  standpoint,  and  not  understanding 
why  her  sister  should  be  suddenly  willing  to  leave  her  home 
and  go  away  with  a  strange  man. 

There  were  signs  of  perturbation  in  the  concierge's  den 
as  the  wedding-party  prepared  to  pass  it  on  their  way  up  to 
the  quatrieme.  Jack  had  filled  his  waistcoat-pocket  with 
gold  coins  handy  for  use.  Nothing  but  gold,  and  no  change 
received,  was  the  mot  (Vordre  upon  his  marriage  day.  The 
drivers,  therefore,  had  driven  away  rejoicing,  and  now  it 
was  the  turn  of  the  evil-looking  pair  to  be  bathed  in  the 
Pactolus  stream.  Eila  was  too  happy  to  have  grudged  even 
the  devil  himself  a  share  in  the  general  jubilation,  but  she 
turned  away  her  eyes  from  the  contemplation  of  the  ex- 
pression of  hideous  cu])idity  that  transfigured  the  counte- 
nances of  the  man  and  woman  as  their  fingers  closed  over 
Jack's  golden  pourboires.  When  the  woman  concierge  had 
recovered  herself  sufficiently  from  the  pleasurable  shock 
the  sight  of  the  gold  had  occasioned  her,  she  ran  with  servile 


AN   UNEXPECTED   ARRIVAL.  445 

deference  after  the  wedding-party,  proceeding  gaily  up  the 
staircase,  to  wish  them  first  that  "  le  ciel  benirait  leur  union," 
and  next  to  inform  them  that  a  monsieur  was  waiting  to  see 
them  in  their  apartment.  Eila's  heart  sank  at  tliis  announce- 
ment. It  was  not  Hubert,  but  a  stranger — the  stranger,  no 
doubt,  who  had  come  to  cut  the  thread  that  hekl  the  sword 
of  Damocles  suspended  over  her  head.  Certainly  a  mon- 
sieur more  or  less  need  not  have  counted  to-day,  for  after 
locking  the  scant  personal  property  the  family  possessed 
into  drawers  and  boxes,  Eila  remembered  that  she  had  pur- 
posely left  the  apartment  open  for  the  convenience  of  the 
men  who  were  to  bring  the  wedding-breakfast  she  had  or- 
dered the  day  before.  The  stranger  might  be,  after  all,  only 
a  chef,  who  had  come  to  superintend  the  laying  of  the  table, 
or  was  waiting  to  know  where  to  place  the  English  wedding- 
cake  that  Willie  had  brought  from  London  as  his  gift  to 
the  bride,  and  that  had  not  been  included  in  the  menu. 
Reassured  by  this  hope,  but  a  little  uneasy  and  apprehensive 
withal,  young  Mrs.  Frost  hurried  on  in  front  of  the  rest  up 
the  staircase.  She  had  hardly  reached  tlie  landing  of  the 
qiiatrieme,  however,  when  a  man's  form  emerged  quickly 
from  the  entrance-door  to  the  apartment,  that  had  been  left 
standing  open.  She  raised  her  eyes  startled  and  curious. 
The  man  was  Reginald  ! 

How  it  was  that  she  did  not  fly  into  his  arms,  the  con- 
sciousness being  borne  in  upon  her,  at  the  instant  of  her  seeing 
him,  that  all  his  soul  was  yearning  for  her,  can  only  be  ex- 
plained by  the  fact  that  Truca  was  close  upon  her  heels,  and 
that  Mamy  and  her  husband  were  equally  close  upon  the 
heels  of  Truca.  She  did  utter  a  deep- voiced  "  Reginald ! " 
of  utter  surprise  and  emotion,  but  this  need  not  necessarily 
have  been  construed  into  a  welcome.  As  for  Reginald,  he 
was  actually  too  overcome  to  speak.  For  a  whole  year  the 
vision  of  the  treasured  form  in  its  shi'unken  frock  had 
haunted  his  thoughts  by  day  and  his  dreams  by  night,  and 
here  it  was  transformed  under  his  gaze  into  the  vision  of  a 
divinely-dressed  Parisian  lady.  Coming  straight  from  Ho- 
bart,  and  being  profoundly  ignorant  of  the  mysteries  of  fem- 
inine apparel,  Reginald  might  be  excused  for  attributing  all 


446  NOT   COUNTING   THE   COST. 

manner  of  imaginary  glories  to  what  was  in  reality  a  fresh 
little  toilette  enough  of  a  creamy-hued  silky  material. 
"  What  will  not  contact  with  the  great  European  world  ef- 
fect ? "  he  thought.  His  heart  failed  him  for  a  moment  in 
presence  of  this  radiant  and  fashionably-attired  ajiparition. 
What  possible  explanation  of  such  magnificence  could  there 
be  if  it  were  not  that  the  hideous  sacrifice  Eila's  letter  had 
spoken  of  had  been  accomplished  ?  And  what  remained  for 
him  in  that  case  but  to  do  as  Job  did,  and  die  ?  And  then 
the  preparations  for  a  feast  at  this  hour  of  the  morning ! 
Had  the  news  of  her  husband's  death,  then,  been  telegraphed 
by  some  unknown  person  to  young  Mrs.  Frost,  and  had  she 
immediately  concluded  the  bargain  with  her  hunchback 
cousin,  and  married  him  there  and  then  with  wild  and  inde- 
cent haste  ?  Fortunately  these  tragic  surmises  had  hardly 
had  the  time  to  shape  themselves  in  Reginald's  brain  before 
the  blessed  reassurance  that  was  to  lift  him  into  the  seventh 
heaven  of  hope  and  elation  had  been  given  him  by  Eila 
herself. 

"  Reginald  !  "  she  had  cried,  bounding  forward  ;  and,  as 
he  held  out  both  hands,  vxnable  to  speak  for  joy,  only  look- 
ing eagerly  and  tragically  into  her  eyes,  "  And  on  Mamy's 
wedding-day,  of  all  days  in  the  year ! "  she  had  added  in 
joyful  tones. 

The  family  was  upon  them  by  this  time,  and  instead  of 
gathering  his  love  to  his  heart — Parisian  toilette  and  all — as 
Reginald  was  hungering  to  do,  he  had  no  other  resource 
than  to  return  the  pressure  of  her  hands  eloquently  for  one 
short  instant's  space.  Though  there  was  no  time  now  for 
an  exchange  of  confidences,  the  look  in  her  eyes  had  told 
him  all  he  wanted  to  know.  The  threatened  liorror  had 
been  averted,  and  she  was  glad  in  her  heart  to  see  him. 
What  more  did  he  need  to  be  assured  of  for  the  present  ? 
With  this  knowledge  he  could  rest  content — content  ?  nay, 
as  happy  as  man  need  be  for  the  nonce.  There  was  so  much 
to  say  and  to  hear.  The  exclamations  of  the  family  as  they 
saw  him  ;  the  musically  nasal  voices  raised  in  chorus,  bring- 
ing back  so  jjowerfully  the  impression  of  the  dear  old  days 
at  Cowa ;  the  appearance  of  the  bride,  radiantly  pretty  and 


AN  UNEXPECTED   ARRIVAL.  447 

becomingly  confused  ;  Truca's  piping  inquiries  after  Daisy, 
and  her  disappointment  at  not  finding  that  excellent  animal 
tethered  to  the  stove  in  the  reception-room ;  the  introduc- 
tion to  the  bright  and  boyish-looking  bridegroom,  and  the 
startling  surmise,  uncommunicated  to  the  rest,  that  tliis  was 
none  other  than  the  Jack  Wilton — that  was  to  say,  the  Wil- 
ton of  the  Gunga  silver-mine  :  what  room  did  all  these  new 
impressions  leave  for  other  than  a  vague  underlying  rejoic- 
ing that  the  thing  that  mattered  most  of  all,  by  the  side  of 
which  Parisian  toilettes  and  friends'  welcomes  and  silver- 
king  bridegrooms  were  indeed  but  as  insignificant  and 
ephemei'al  dreams,  that  the  thing  that  mattei-ed  beyond  all 
others  in  the  world,  was  as  it  ought  to  be  ? 

We  need  not  dwell  upon  the  details  of  Mamy's  wedding- 
breakfast.  That  it  was  conducted  upon  the  same  free-and- 
easy  principles,  or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  upon  the  same 
absence  of  all  principles,  as  had  marked  her  courtship  and 
marriage,  we  may  at  least  be  certain.  The  point  in  which  it 
differed  from  all  other  wedding-breakfasts  ever  heard  of  lay 
in  the  fact  that  it  was  the  bride  who  made  the  speech.  She 
made  it,  it  is  true,  at  the  bridegroom's  instigation ;  or,  rather, 
the  cake  having  been  cut  and  healths  having  been  drunk  in 
the  best  champagne  procurable,  she  received  a  small  slip  of 
paper  from  Jack's  hands  (Jack  was  sitting  next  to  her,  and 
in  this  respect  only  the  etiquette  of  wedding  breakfasts  was 
observed),  with  the  request  that  she  would  read  it  out  to  the 
assembled  company.  As  the  only  stranger  present  was 
Reginald,  and  as  Reginald  had  never  been  a  stranger  to  the 
Clares,  Mamy  felt  not  the  least  diffidence  in  doing  as  she 
was  requested.  The  writing  on  the  paper  was  in  Jack's 
hand,  and  was  very  easy  to  decipher.  She  therefore  pro- 
ceeded to  read  out  loud  as  follows  : 

"  I,  Mamy  Wilton  "  (accompanied  by  a  smile  and  a  blush), 
"  do  declare  to  all  here  present  that  I  settle  from  this  day 
forth  the  sum  of  fi^ve  hundred  pounds  yearly  upon  my 
mother  for  the  rest  of  her  natiu-al  life,  and —  oh,  Jack,  what 
do  you  mean  ? " 

Here  the  bride  cast  down  the  paper  and  threw  herself 
sobbing  upon  her  husband's  bi'east. 


448  NOT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

"That's  all  true,"  whispered  Eila  hysterically  to  Regi- 
nald, by  whose  side  she  was  sitting ;  she  was  crying  now,  in 
her  turn ;  "  it's  Jack's  surprise  to  Mamy.  She  thought  he 
was  quite  poor.  We  all  thought  it  at  first.  No  one  knew 
but  me.  Oh,  Reginald,  what  is  mother  saying  ? "  She 
stopi3ed  uneasily  to  listen. 

"  Am  I  to  look  upon  this  as  genuine  ? "  Mrs.  Clare  was 
exclaiming  in  agitated  tones.  "  Oh,  my  children,  and  all 
this  because  I  insisted  upon  bringing  home  the  portrait  of 
your  ancestor ! " 

There  was  a  pause.  The  solemn  reminder  from  their 
mother  of  the  real  origin  of  their  astounding  fortune  caused 
the  younger  members  of  the  Clai-e  family  to  look  serious. 
It  was  true,  nevertheless.  If  they  had  not  made  the  great 
move,  there  would  have  been  no  Hubert,  no  Jack,  no  wed- 
ding, no  brother-in-law  to  dispense  thousands  to  the  family 
on  his  marriage  day. 

When  order  was  a  little  restored,  when  Mrs.  Clare  had 
walked  round  the  table  and  fervently  embraced  her  son-in- 
law  and  her  daughter  by  turns,  when  Dick  and  Willie  had 
shaken  hands  wildly  with  everybody  in  the  room,  begin- 
ning with  each  otlier,  and  Truca  had  been  kissed  indiscrimi- 
nately in  her  turn,  Mamy  proceeded  to  read  the  rest  of  the 
paper : 

"  I  settle  upon  my  sister  Eila  for  her  sole  use  and  benefit 
the  sum  of  three  hundred  pounds  a  year,"  she  continued 
chantingly.  "  Willie  may  have  a  part  share  in  one  of  my 
stations  if  he  pleases,  and  Dick  shall  have  a  studio  of  his 
own  when  he  has  a  picture  in  the  Salon.  As  for  Truca,  I 
shall  give  her  a  little  dowry  when  she  is  old  enough  to 
marry.  I  also  hope  that  the  family  will  come  and  visit 
Jack  and  me  at  Gunga  as  long  and  as  often  as  they  please, 
as  soon  as  we  have  built  a  house  large  enough  for  their  ac- 
commodation." 

Joy,  as  Eila  had  already  discovered,  has  its  limits  as  well 
as  grief.  She  was  not  sure,  indeed,  that  the  capacity  for 
feeling  happiness  was  not  more  speedily  exhausted  than  the 
capacity  for  feeling  sorrow.  Joy  at  its  best  is  such  an  un- 
certain and  vaporous  possession  that  even  to  affirm  that  we 


AN   UNEXPECTED   ARRIVAL,  449 

hold  it  is  to  risk  seeing  it  escape  us.  It  was  with  the  feeling- 
of  lassitude  that  succeeds  to  strong  emotions  of  whatever 
description  that  she  saw  her  sister  and  Jack  drive  away  a 
couple  of  hours  later  in  the  brougham  that  was  to  convey 
them  to  the  railway-station.  It  had  been  settled  that  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Wilton  should  make  a  halt  at  Amiens  for  a  couple 
of  days,  and  go  thence  via  Calais  to  England.  Eila  almost 
felt  now  as  though  she  could  have  paraphrased  the  words  of 
Simeon,  and  declared  that,  having  seen  the  accomplishment 
of  her  desires,  she  was  ready  to  depart  this  life  in  peace,  the 
goal  of  her  wildest  hopes  and  ambitions  having  been 
reached.  Mamy  had  sailed  triumphantly  into  port,  with  all 
her  sails  set,  like  some  fair  and  queenly  vessel,  taking  in 
tow  the  fleet  of  unballasted  craft  that  had  been  so  grievously 
buft'eted  about  by  the  waves.  The  poor  little  vessels  were 
sheltered  now  from  storms  and  gales.  They  were  securely 
anchored  in  a  safe  haven.  Jack  had  explained  to  his  sister- 
in-law  before  going  away  that  she  might  make  herself  easy 
in  her  mind  as  to  the  fulfilment  of  the  j)romises  he  had 
made  in  Mamy's  name.  Her  mother's  allowance,  as  well  as 
her  own,  would  begin  from  the  first  of  the  current  month. 
Eila  had  expressed  her  regret  that  words  for  gratitude  and 
delight  were  so  few  in  the  English  language.  She  would 
have  liked  to  find  some  ex^Jression  adequate  to  the  occasion, 
but  this  was  evidently  impossible.  Jack  had  declared  him- 
self more  than  sufficiently  thanked,  and,  in  truth,  Eila  did 
not  know  how  completely  a  certain  order  of  eye,  to  which 
hers  undoubtedly  belonged,  can  convey  the  notion  of  grati- 
tude when  language  fails  to  express  it.  Let  those  who  have 
read  the  expression  in  a  dog's  brown  eyes  when  caressed  by 
his  master's  hand  deny  the  eloquence  of  mute  gratitude  if 
they  can. 

It  was  between  four  and  five  in  the  afternoon  when  the 
bride  and  bridegroom  drove  away.  There  had  been  scant 
opportunity  for  talking  to  Reginald  in  the  interval.  His 
feelings  as  he  realized  the  incredible  fact  that  the  friends  he 
had  come  to  rescue  from  pauperism  were  now  among  the 
favourites  of  fortune  may  be  better  imagined  than  described. 

Eila  acceded  to  his  proposal  to  take  a  walk  with  him  in 


450  NOT  COUNTING   THE  COST. 

the  Luxembourg  Gardens  (those  gardens  that  she  had  so 
often  described  to  him  in  her  letters)  with  sober  deliglit. 

"  Et  d'un  autre ! "  said  the  concierge  man  to  the  con- 
cierge woman  as  the  pair  passed  through  the  porte-cochere 
side  by  side  on  their  way  out.  The  weather  was  divine. 
The  heavenly  softness  of  early  summer  was  in  the  air.  As 
Eila  walked  next  to  her  ti'ied  friend  under  the  dainty  foli- 
age that  bedecked  the  Luxembourg  elms,  her  heart  was  too 
full  for  speech.  Silently  she  led  him  to  a  bench  in  a  retired 
spot  away  from  the  central  avenue  where  the  band  was 
wont  to  play,  and  there,  with  the  memory  of  their  last  part- 
ing upon  the  moonlit  heights  of  Cowa  rising  vividly  before 
each  of  them,  they  sat  them  down  and  spoke  as  the  spirit 
moved  them. 

Not  immediately,  however.  Not  without  a  preliminary 
exchange  of  inconsequential  observations.  Often  when  the 
heart  is  feeling  most  strongly  the  lips  utter  some  trivial, 
commonplace  phrase. 

"  Is  it  not  a  treat  to  see  the  European  green  after  the 
black  gums  ? "  was  Eila's  demure  query. 

"Yes,"  said  Reginald  in  the  same  calm  tones.  "Your 
mother  used  to  say  there  were  no  trees  in  Tasmania,  you 
remember.  If  she  had  said  there  were  no  leaves  it  would 
have  been  nearer  the  mark." 

There  was  a  pause. 

"  Fancy  mother  s  prophecies  coming  true,  after  all ! "  re- 
marked Eila. 

"  Yes ;  but  by  what  a  fluke ! "  rejoined  Reginald. 

Something  in  his  voice  promj^ted  her  to  look  round  at 
him  at  that  moment  with  a  smile,  and  the  little  barrier  of 
conventional  custom  she  had  essayed  to  set  up  between  her- 
self and  him  crumbled  instantly  into  nothingness. 

"  Take  off  your  glove,"  he  said  huskily,  and  having  done 
as  she  was  bid,  she  surrendered  her  hand  to  his  caressing 
embrace.  After  this  all  that  he  had  to  tell  her  sounded 
natural  enough.  The  cWft  of  it,  in  truth,  was  only  the  pas- 
sionate reiteration  of  the  all-absorbing  sentiment  he  had  for 
her.  He  made  no  allusion  to  the  subject  of  her  letter.  It 
would  have  seemed  like  sacrilege  to  recall  it  at  this  mo- 


AN   UNEXPECTED  ARRIVAL.  451 

ment.  Nor  did  he  tell  her  as  yet  of  her  husband's  death. 
It  was  enoug-h  at  first  to  try  to  make  her  realize,  dimly, 
something  of  what  he  had  felt  when  he  lost  her,  and  of 
what  he  now  felt  upon  finding  her  again. 

Eila  listened  with  her  head  a  little  bent  forwai'd,  her 
fingers  nervously  interlacing  themselves  with  his,  as  her 
hand  rested  in  his  grasp.  When  he  paused  she  answered 
him  hurriedly,  in  tones  quite  unlike  those  of  her  usually 
calm-sounding  voice.  It  was  evident  that  the  thing  she 
said  cost  her  an  effort  to  say.  "  I  do  believe  you  care  for 
me  with  all  your  heart,  Reginald,  and  I  often  felt  how  bad- 
ly I  wanted  you  by  me  all  this  past  year.  I  don't  think  I 
am  any  good  by  myself,  but  I  would  be  if  I  were  always 
with  you.  I  believe  there  must  be  women  who  can't  take 
care  of  themselves— and " 

Her  voice  quavered.  His  own  had  a  bi-eak  in  it  as  he 
repeated  with  a  sincerity  of  tone  that  was  almost  tragic  in 
its  intensity :  "  My  darling !  My  own  darling !  Listen, 
Eila.  I  have  always  loved  you  with  a  love  that  seems  to 
me  almost  superhuman.  Whatever  selfish  thoughts  I  may 
have  had  of  api^ropriating  you  to  myself — and  God  knows  I 
have  had  them  sometimes — the  love  I  bore  you  was  always 
strong  enough  to  triumph  over  the  desire  in  the  end.  It  is 
simply  a  matter  of  caring  about  you  more  than  about  my- 
self. I  hope  and  trust  that  if  it  had  been  still  necessary,  I 
should  have  found  the  strength  now  to  think  of  you  first — 
that  instead  of  rushing  blindly  into  the  paradise  of  unlaw- 
ful love,  I  should  have  had  the  power  to  pause  on  the 
threshold  for  your  sake  as  before.  But  Eila,  my  dear  one, 
such  a  sacrifice  is  no  longer  needed.  The  cause  that  held  us 
apart  has  ceased  to  exist.  The  week  that  I  left  Hobart,  your 
husband  died  suddenly — quite  suddenly,  and  without  suffer- 
ing— at  the  asylum." 

He  heard  her  utter  a  gasping  "  Oh ! "  as  her  fingers  tight- 
ened round  his  wrist.  Then  she  was  silent,  but,  to  his  sur- 
prise, two  tears  trickled  slowly  from  beneath  her  downcast 
lashes  over  her  cheeks  on  to  the  front  of  her  dress.  Was  it 
for  the  poor  maniac — the  echo  of  whose  unmeaning  curses 
pursued  her  even  now  in  her  dreams — that  she  was  weeping  ? 


452  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

Or  for  the  never-to-be  re-awakened  illusions  of  her  own  fool- 
ish, passionate  youth  ? 

"  Tell  me  about  it,"  she  said  at  last,  wiping  her  eyes,  with 
a  long-drawn  sigh,  as  though  the  tears  had  relieved  her,  "I 
know  you  kept  your  promise  of  seeing  him." 

"  I  had  seen  him  only  a  few  days  before,  dear,"  Reginald 
assured  her  tenderly.  "  It  was  a  hopeless  case,  and  life  would 
have  been  only  a  prolonging  of  mental  and  bodily  torment. 
It  was  a  merciful  release  ;  believe  me " 

He  stopped,  and  she  insisted  once  more :  "  Tell  me  all  you 
know." 

And  Reginald  told  her.  The  story  was  a  long  one.  He 
had  not  only  to  render  an  account  of  the  manner  in  which 
he  had  fulfilled  his  trust,  but  to  give  details  of  a  hundred 
things  connected  with  it  besides.  How  he  had  first  learned 
the  news  of  Charles  Frost's  death  ;  how  on  the  morrow  he 
had  seen  the  body,  which  had  been  conveyed  to  Hobart  for 
burial,  lying  in  its  coffin  at  Ivy  Cottage ;  how  impressed  he 
had  been  by  the  peaceful  aspect  of  the  clay  delivered  of  the 
spirit  that  toi'tured  it ;  how  young  and  fair  the  chiselled  face 
had  looked  (Eila's  tears  had  flowed  freely  again  at  this  part 
of  the  narrative) ;  how  the  bitterness  of  the  parents'  grief 
had  been  assuaged  by  the  apparent  resuscitation  in  death  of 
the  child  they  had  loved  and  lost.  But  when  he  had  re- 
counted all  these  things,  gently  and  sympathizingly,  there 
remained  yet  much  to  be  told.  How  a  certain  letter  Eila 
had  written  had  rendered  it  impossible  for  Reginald  himself 
to  remain  away  from  her  any  longer ;  how  the  very  evening 
he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  sacrifice  everything,  and  rush 
across  the  world  to  rescue  her,  he  had  received  the  visit  by 
night  of  her  uncle  with  the  news  of  her  husband's  death ; 
how,  having  no  knowledge  of  the  relations  of  the  family 
with  Jack  Wilton,  he  had  expected  to  find  them  all  in  the 
direst  straits  of  povei'ty ;  how,  with  her  uncle's  aid,  and  hav- 
ing realized  a  few  hundred  jjounds  on  his  own  account,  he 
had  come  home  with  the  intention  of  persuading  them  to  let 
him  bring  them  back  to  Hobart  at  all  costs,  far  from  the  risk 
of  starving  in  the  midst  of  plenty,  and  from  Macchiavelian 
hunchback  cousins. 


AN   UNEXPECTED  ARRIVAL.  453 

"  But  it  is  only  the  unexpected  that  happens,"  he  con- 
cluded, "  and  certainly  the  last  thing  in  the  world  I  expected 
was  to  find  you  all  rich  people.  As  regards  you  and  mc, 
Eila,  if  I  consulted  my  own  feelings  alone,  I  would  ask  you 
not  to  accept  those  three  hundred  pounds  your  brother-in- 
law  proposes  to  settle  upon  you.  I  would  rather  have  you 
without  a  penny  in  your  pocket,  or  a  dress  to  your  back,  un- 
less it  were  a  certain  washed-out  old  frock  you  had  on — do 
you  remember  ? — when  you  came  to  wish  me  good-bye  in 
the  moonlight  that  last  night  at  Cowa.  Have  you  got  that 
dress  still  ?  I  should  like  you  to  keep  it,  like  Enid,  for  a  re- 
membrance. But  to  go  back  to  the  question  of  the  money, 
my  dear.  Being  a  very  poor  man  myself,  and  your  brother- 
in-law  having  millions,  it  seems  selfish  to  want  to  deprive 
you  of  your  share  of  the  spoil,  though  I  would  rather  work 
sixteen  hours  a  day  instead  of  eight,  to  be  able  to  feel  you 
owed  everything  you  had  to  me.  However,  we  will  not  dis- 
cuss that  matter  now.  You  shall  do  as  you  like  in  this  and 
everything  else.  You  can't  imagine,  my  darling,  how  ines- 
timably precious  that  avowal  was  you  made  me  a  few  mo- 
ments ago.  But  now  our  probation  is  at  an  end  we  need 
never  be  separated  again.  I  have  enough  to  keep  me  for 
nearly  a  year  at  home  if  I  am  careful,  since  the  money  will 
not  be  needed  for  your  family  any  longer,  and  by-and-by 
we  can  be  married  somewhere  quietly  in  Europe  and  go  out 
to  settle  in  Hobart,  where  my  work  lies  for  the  present.  Are 
you  willing  to  go  there  with  me,  dear,  instead  of  into  the 
wilds,  as  you  offered  to  do  awhile  ago  ?  " 

"  Anywhere  with  you,"  Eila  replied  gravely. 

There  was  nothing  to  be  done  for  the  family  now,  and 
the  happpiness  of  giving  happiness,  always  the  most  power- 
ful factor  in  her  case,  had  never  been  more  strongly  appealed 
to.  If  Reginald  had  not  cared  for  her  to  the  extent  of  mak- 
ing her  feel  that  she  was  literally  conferring  paradise  on 
him  by  giving  herself  to  him,  the  prospect  of  marrying  a 
poor  man,  and  of  settling  in  Hobart,  might  not  have  been 
altogether  calculated  to  arouse  enthusiasm.  But  if  you  create 
a  j)aradise  for  another,  you  cannot  fail  to  enjoy  a  certain 
reflected  share  in  it  yourself.     So  she  replied  gravely,  and 


454  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

with  the  most  entire  conviction,  both  real  and  apparent, 
"  Anywhere  with  you,"  as  Reginald  repeated  liis  question 
once  more  before  drawing  her  arm  through  his,  and  walk- 
ing away  with  her  through  the  gloaming  from  the  scene  of 
their  betrothal. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

CONCLUSION. 

Six  weeks  had  elapsed  since  Mrs.  Wilton's  departure. 
The  letters  she  addressed  to  her  former  home  had  been  as 
unsatisfactory  as  the  letters  of  a  happy  bride  must  of  neces- 
sity be.  The  happier  she  is,  the  more  reticent  she  becomes. 
Eila  felt  vaguely  that  the  Mamy  of  Cowa  was  gone  away 
for  ever.  What  the  Mrs.  Wilton  who  had  taken  her  place 
would  be  like  remained  yet  to  be  seen. 

It  was  seen  when  the  bride  swept  into  the  apartment  on 
the  qiiatrieme  upon  a  certain  warm  Jiuie  afternoon.  Eila, 
who  had  not  expected  her  for  another  hour,  started  back 
with  a  momentary  pang  of  non-recognition  before  opening 
wide  her  arms,  and  rushing  forward  to  clasp  them  round 
her  neck. 

"  Mamy,  is  it  you  ?  Mother  and  the  rest  of  them  are  out. 
We  did  not  think  you  could  be  here  before  six.  Where  is 
your  husband  ? " 

"Jack  is  at  the  Continental,"  said  Mamy,  disengaging 
herself  from  her  sister's  clasp  ;  "  I  told  him  I  miist  see  you 
alone  for  the  first  half-hour.  He  will  come  for  me  by- 
and-by." 

"Come  for  you,  dear  !  What  do  you  mean  ?  We  have 
ordered  a  dinner  from  Foyot's  for  you  here." 

"  Oh  !  Jack  thought  you  would  all  dine  with  us  at  table 
dliote,  but  it  shall  be  as  you  please,  Eila.  I  didn't  remem- 
ber it  was  so  warm  here.  How  do  you  exist  in  such  an 
atmosphere  ? " 

The  tone  in  which  the  last  words  were  uttered  conveyed 
the  first  subtle  suggestion,  or,  rather,  apprehension,  to  Eila's 


CONCLUSION.  455 

mind  that  Mrs.  Wilton  and  Mamy  Clare  were  two  different 
persons.  There  could  be  no  question  as  to  which  was  the 
more  imposing  of  the  two.  Mamy  Clare's  personality  liad 
been  expressed  by  a  torn  and  washed-out  blouse;  young 
Mrs.  Wilton's  personality  was  draped  in  a  silk  of  the  "  stand- 
by-itself  "  consistency,  surmounted  by  a  bonnet  which  re- 
sembled a  garland  of  dew-besprinkled  forget-me-nots  of 
exquisite  fidelity.  Eila  was  sure  that  the  glittering  dew- 
drops  were  scintillating  diamonds.  The  extreme  youth  of 
the  wearer  of  this  magnificent  apparel  was  the  crowning 
point  of  its  splendour,  for  though  dress  may  take  twenty 
years  away  from  a  woman's  appearance,  it  is  only  when 
there  is  nothing  to  take  away  that  it  has  a  clear  field  for  its 
operations.  Eila  watched  the  manner  in  which  Mamy 
seated  herself  on  the  new  armchair  by  the  window  (for  the 
name  of  the  reception-room  was  no  longer  a  by-word  in  the 
family),  and  smiled,  with  a  shade  of  sadness,  however,  in 
her  smile. 

"  You  are  as  happy  as  you  expected  to  be,  dear  ? " 

The  bride  raised  her  eyebrows — a  thing  she  had  never 
been  wont  to  do  in  olden  times — and  Eila  felt  that  this  was 
an  attribute  of  the  great  lady  who  had  taken  Mamy's  place, 

"  I'm  all  right,"  she  said  carelessly.  Then,  with  a  depre- 
cating look  round  the  room :  "  It  seems  so  long  ago  that  I 
was  living  here.  It's  like  going  back  to  the  Dark  Ages  to 
think  of  it." 

"  And  Jack  is  good  to  you  ? "  persisted  Eila,  kneeling  by 
her  sister's  side  and  taking  her  hand  in  hers.  "  Oh,  Mamy 
dear,  what  have  you  done  with  your  hands  to  make  them 
so  white  ?  And,  goodness !  What  rings  !  I  know  now 
what  is  meant  in  books  by  the  heroine's  fingers  being 
ablaze  with  precious  stones.  Doesn't  it  tire  you  to  wear  so 
many  ? " 

"  I  take  them  off  at  night,"  said  Mamy,  stretching  out  her 
hands  and  looking  at  her  rings  critically.  "  But  I  was  al- 
ways forgetting  them  at  first.  Jack  fished  them  out  of  the 
basin  at  the  hotel  one  time,  and  another  time  we  missed  our 
train  going  back  for  them." 

''  And  what  are  your  plans  now  ? "  asked  Eila,  a  little 


456  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

sadly.  "  Oh,  Marny  dear,  I  have  a  confession  to  make  to 
you." 

"About?" 

Mamy  raised  her  eyebrows  once  more.  They  were  pretty 
brows,  and  the  action  of  raising  them  was  not  unbecoming 
to  the  bhie  orbs  tliey  crowned.  Nevertheless,  the  gesture 
seemed  a  part  of  Mrs.  Jack  Wilton,  and  not  of  Mamy  Clare. 

"  About  poor  Sydney !  I  could  not  bear  to  give  you  the 
news  just  on  the  eve  of  your  wedding.  Jack  told  you,  I 
suppose  ? " 

"Yes." 

Mamy's  mouth  worked  a  little,  as  in  her  childish  days, 
and  the  expression  was  so  entirely  that  of  the  Mamy  that 
Eila  had  always  known  and  loved,  until  a  few  minutes  ago, 
that  she  felt  emboldened  to  put  her  arms  around  her  neck 
and  kiss  her. 

Nevertheless,  the  impression  that  her  sister  was  not  alto- 
gether the  same  continued  to  haunt  her.  In  the  old  days 
there  was  no  course  of  action,  however  reckless,  that  Mamy 
would  not  have  tolerated  in  theory  if  her  opinion  had  been 
asked,  and  even  if  it  had  not  been  asked.  Clearly  at  this 
moment  did  the  interview  upon  the  Cowa  veranda  recur  to 
Eila's  mind,  when  Mamy  had  declared  to  her  that  it  was  for 
her  that  Reginald  came  to  Cowa,  boasting  at  the  same  time 
of  her  own  knowledge  of  the  world,  and  the  latitude  she 
would  allow  people  who  were  fond  of  each  other,  whether 
encumbered  by  matrimonial  ties  or  not,  for  had  she  not  read 
Dumas  Fils  and  Balzac  ? 

To  verify  how  far  these  unconventional  views,  which 
certainly  could  not  have  resulted  from  her  own  experience, 
had  withstood  the  sobering  effect  of  matrimony  in  Mamy's 
case,  Eila  devised  a  small  fiction  as  a  snare. 

"Not  to  talk  about  sad  things  now,"  she  said,  in  allusion 
to  the  reference  to  Sydney,  "there  is  something  about  my- 
self I  ought  to  say,  Mamy.  You  were  always  so  liberal 
when  you  were  a  girl — you  used  to  frighten  me  with  your 
views  sometimes — so  I  need  not  mind  telling  you  what  I 
am  thinking  of  doing." 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of  doing  ? " 


CONCLUSION.  457 

Mamy's  face  was  not  encouraging-.  Its  expression  was 
rather  one  of  alarm  than  approval,  and  that  the  alarm  was 
genuine  might  be  divined  from  the  fact  that  she  forgot  in 
putting  her  question  to  raise  her  eyebrows. 

"  Why  " — Eila  turned  to  the  window  and  pi'etended  to  be 
busy  ill  pulling  the  new  blind  straight  in  order  to  give  her- 
self a  countenance — "  nothing  is  done  so  far ;  but  Reginald 
has  come  home." 

"I  know.  You  haven't  forgotten  he  was  at  our  wedding, 
have  you  ?  I  knew  he  could  never  stop  away  from  you  for 
long." 

"  Oh,  you  knew  that  ? "  The  blind,  having  been  almost 
mathematically  readjusted,  was  adroitly  disarranged  once 
more.  '•  Well,  Mamy,  with  our  way  of  looking  at  things 
now  that  you  are  married,  and  a  power  in  the  land,  and 
now  that,  thanks  to  your  husband,  mother  and  the  rest  of 
us  are  provided  for,  would  you  think  it  very  extraordinary 
if  I  thought  of  my  own  life  a  little,  and  Reginald's,  and  all 
the  years  that  are  slipping  away,  and  of  how  happy  I  could 
make  him  and  myself,  if — if  we  were  free  ? " 

"But  you're  not  free,"  said  Mamy,  with  a  resolute  air. 
"If  you  were  it  would  be  different." 

"  Not  free  in  the  eyes  of  the  world,  perhaps,"  rejoined 
Eila  softly,  but  just  as  resolutely ;  "  but  in  my  own  eyes, 
and  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  know  all  the  circumstances  of 
my  life — in  those  of  my  family  especially — surely  I  might 
be  considered  free.  You  would  have  been  the  first  once  to 
say  so.  We  have  only  one  life,  and  we  know  nothing  about 
another,  or  even  whether  there  is  any  other  at  all.  Why 
should  I  let  this  one  life  be  utterly  spoiled  ?  Why  should 
I  sacrifice  myself  and  another  person  to  a  cruel  and  unjust 
law,  which  binds  two  people  together  in  defiance  of  all  that 
is  just,  and  right,  and  natural  ?  I  have  no  children  ;  there 
is  no  one  whom  I  can  hurt  if  I  make  use  of  the  freedom 
that  I  consider  my  right.  Tell  me,  Mamy,  would  it  seem  to 
you  a  very  dreadful  thing  if,  knowing  how  much  Reginald 
cares  for  me,  I  consented  to  go  away  with  him  and  live  in 
some  quiet,  out-of-the-way  place,  where  our  comings  and 
goings  would  matter  to  nobody  ?     You  would  care  for  me, 


458  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST, 

dear,  the  same  as  ever ;  and  I  suppose  you  would  come  and 
see  me  sometimes,  wouldn't  you  !  " 

"  I,  perhajis ;  but  Jack,  and  Jack's  sisters  and  his  mother ! 
Oh,  Eila,  you  don't  know  what  people  they  are !  For  pity's 
sake  don't  talk  about  anything  so  horrible !  And  Jack 
thinks  you're  the  purest  woman  in  the  world.  He  said  so — 
he  did  indeed.   And,  oh  !  pray — pray — don't  talk  in  that  w^ay." 

Mamy  was  beginning  to  whimper.  Eila  answered  her 
in  the  same  soft  though  resolute  tones.  "  I  should  not  think 
I  had  forfeited  my  right  to  be  considered  a  pure  woman, 
Mamy,  if  I  were  to  give  up  everything  for  the  sake  of  Regi- 
nald. You  have  a  perfect  right  to  change  your  opinion,  but 
would  you  have  spoken  as  you  are  doing  now  a  little  time 
ago  ? " 

"I  was  a  child,"  said  Mamy,  pulling  out  a  dainty  piece 
of  broidered  cambric  and  applying  it  to  her  eyes.  "  I  did  not 
know  anything  of  the  world.  None  of  us  did.  If  you  were 
to  do  as  you  say,  I  should  never  be  able  to  visit  you.  And 
you  can't  imagine  how  horrified  Jack's  family  would  be.  I 
would  never  dare  to  tell  him." 

"  And  you  yourself  ?    You  would  disown  me,  Mainy  ?  " 

Mi'S.  Wilton  looked  at  the  ground  instead  of  encounter- 
ing her  sister's  eyes. 

"You  need  not  do  it,"  she  said  at  last,  with  an  air  of 
vexation. 

"  No,  I  need  not  do  it,  as  you  say ;  and  I  am  not  going  to 
do  it,  either.  I  only  wanted  to  see  whether  you  held  the 
sanae  views  as  before.  If  I  were  free,  you  would  not  be 
sorry  to  see  me  married  to  Reginald,  I  supjjose  ? " 

"  Sorry  !  I  should  be  awfully  glad,  and  so  would  Jack. 
He  liked  what  he  saw  of  him  ever  so  much." 

"  Then  you  may  be  glad,  Mamy,  for  by-and-by  I  mean  to 
marry  Reginald." 

"You  will  get  a  divorce,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Mamy  in  con- 
strained tones.  "  I  hope  to  heaven  it  won't  be  in  the  papers, 
where  everyone  can  read  it." 

Eila  paused  a  moment  before  she  replied. 

"  No  divorce  will  be  necessary.  My  husband  is  dead, 
Mamy." 


CONCTATSION.  459 

Slie  had  intended  to  make  this  announcement  very 
quietly  and  solemnly,  but  there  came  a  break  in  her  voice 
that  she  had  not  reckoned  upon.  She  turned  away  her 
head,  and  Mamy  said  nothing  for  a  time.  Then  she  got  up, 
threw  her  arms  round  her  sister's  neck,  and  held  her  close 
to  her  heart. 

"  Dear,  poor  Eila  !  I  did  not  know  anything  about  how 
wives  feel,  whatever  their  husbands  may  do  or  become,  un- 
til I  got  married  myself.  Poor  Eila,  darling  !  But  you  will 
be  very  hapi^y  by-and-by  with  Reginald.  Try  to  think  of 
that  most  if  you  can." 

"  Yes  I  will,"  said  Eila,  sobbing  hysterically,  and  cling- 
ing to  her  sister  with  fervent  clasp.  She  felt  after  this  that 
Mamy  had  come  back  again,  despite  the  rings,  the  diamonds, 
and  the  while  hands. 

It  was  more  apparent  than  ever  that  she  had  come  back 
when  a  few  minutes  later,  notwithstanding  her  rings  and 
circumstance,  the  bride  was  indiscriminately  hugged  by 
the  remaining  members  of  her  family.  Plans  were  dis- 
cussed and  the  progi*amme  of  the  future  drawn  up  that 
evening,  in  the  wake  of  a  family  banquet  at  the  Conti 
nental.  Jack,  who  did  the  honours,  proved  himself  so  much 
more  apt  for  the  role  of  an  adoring  husband  and  an  affec- 
tionate son-in-law  than  for  that  of  an  amateur  pupil  in 
French,  that  Mrs.  Clare  expressed  her  contrition  at  not  hav- 
ing recognised  his  true  vocation  before.  To  give  the  crown- 
ing touch  to  Eila's  most  elaborate  air-castle,  and  to  render  it 
a  solid  and  dazzling  reality,  he  proposed  to  treat  the  family 
to  the  Continental  tour  that  had  been  for  so  long  the  object 
of  their  hopes  and  dreams.  The  offer,  it  is  needless  to  say, 
was  rapturously  accepted.  There  was  one  person,  however, 
who,  although  he  was  included  in  the  invitation,  would  not 
be  beholden  to  Mamy's  silver-king  husband.  This  person 
was  Reginald.  Despite  the  almost  insurmountable  desire  of 
watching  over  young  Mrs.  Frost  until  such  time  as  he 
could  keep  her  for  ever  by  his  side,  he  was  heroic  enough  to 
declare  his  intention  of  returning  to  his  post  in  Tasmania. 
His  decision  was  warmly  combatted  by  the  entire  party,  save 
Eila,  who  maintained  an  inexplicable  silence.  But  her  lover 
30 


460  NOT  COUNTING  THE  COST. 

must  have  been  more  than  satisfied  by  the  protest  he  read  in 
her  eyes,  for  as  soon  as  he  was  alone  with  her  on  their 
homeward  way  along  the  boulevards,  he  spent  himself  in 
explanations — unnecessary  enough — of  the  motives  for 
which  he  renounced  the  immense  joy  of  accompanying  her 
on  her  travels.  Tenderness  for  her  reputation ;  a  certain 
sense  of  pride  on  his  own  account,  which  made  it  impossible 
for  him  to  accept  benefits  from  a  stranger ;  the  very  strength 
and  passion  of  his  adoration  for  her — these  were  the  consid- 
erations which  impelled  him  to  sacrifice  the  present  to  the 
future.  So  eloquent  he  was  in  arguing  against  his  own  de- 
sire, so  evidently  fearful  lest  she  should  persuade  him 
against  his  better  judgment  to  remain,  that  for  once  Eila 
was  strong.  She  did  not  put  her  arms  round  his  neck  and 
say  "  Stay  " — or,  rather,  she  did  the  first,  but  said  "  Go  " — 
and  both  he  and  she  felt  that  they  had  taken  a  step  upon 
the  path  of  renunciation,  which  would  have  advanced  them 
a  long  way  towards  the  Nirvana  of  the  Buddhists.  They 
fortified  themselves  by  dwelling  upon  the  vision  of  the 
home  that  Reginald  would  prepare  for  their  joint  occupa- 
tion in  Tasmania,  upon  the  possibility  of  their  renting 
Cowa,  upon  the  joy  of  meeting  again  in  Melbourne,  whither 
Reginald  intended  to  go  to  meet  her  in  eight  months'  time, 
and  upon  the  question  of  where  the  marriage  ceremony 
would  be  quietly  performed.  There  was  only  one  terror 
that  haunted  Reginald,  and  he  confided  it  to  his  betrothed. 
What  if  the  hunchback  cousin  should  reappear  upon  the 
scene  ? 

"  What — Hubert !  Oh,  he  will  never  come  back  !  "  said 
Eila  confidently.  "I  have  a  feeling  sometimes  that  he 
wasn't  a  I'eal  person  at  all,  only  a  shade  we  evoked  from  the 
nether  world  by  our  determination  to  discover  the  owner  of 
the  ruby.  If  he  should  come  our  way  again,  I  will  run 
away  to  you  directly." 

But  Eila  was  right,  for  Hubert  was  not  heard  of  again. 


THE  END. 


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Anne,"  etc.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  The  story  is  well  written  and  interesting,  the  stj'le  is  limpid  and  pure  as  fresh 
vrater,  and  is  so  artistically  done  that  it  is  only  a  second  thought  that  notices  it." — San 
Francisco  Call. 

Y^HE  LILAC  SUNBONNET.     A  Lave  Story.     By 

■*        S.  R.  Crockett,  author  of   "  The   Stickit   Minister,"    "  The 

Raiders,"  etc.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  A  love  story  pure  and  simple,  one  of  the  old-fashioned,  wholesome,  sunshiny  kind, 
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ful woman  ;  and  if  any  other  love  story  half  so  sweet  has  been  written  this  year  it  has 
escaped  u3."^AVzf  York  Times. 

IX/T AELCHO.     By  the  Hon.  Emily   Lawless,  author 
■^'J-    of  "  Crania,"  "  Hurrish,"  etc.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  A  paradox  of  literary  genius.  It  is  not  a  history,  and  yet  has  more  of  the  stuff 
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graph we  know.  It  is  not  a  novel,  and  yet  fascinates  us  more  than  any  novel." — 
London  Spectator. 

rnHE  LAND    OF  THE  SUN.      Vistas  Mexicanas. 

-*        By  Christian  Reid,  author  of  "The  Land  of  the  Sky,"  "A 

Comedy  of  Elopement,"  etc.    Illustrated.     i2mo.    Cloth,  $1.75. 

In  this  picturesque  travel  romance  the  author  of  "  The  Land  of  the  Sky" 
takes  her  characters  from  New  Orleans  to  fascinating  Mexican  cities  like 
Guanajuato,  Zacatecas,  Aguas  Calientes,  Guadalajara,  and  cf  course  the  City 
of  Mexico.  What  they  fee  and  what  they  do  aie  described  in  a  vivacious 
style  which  renders  the  book  most  valuable  to  those  who  wish  an  interesting 
Mexican  travel-book  unencumbered  with  details,  while  the  story  as  a  story 
sustains  the  high  reputation  of  this  talented  author. 


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ANY  INVENTIONS.     By  Rudyard   Kiplinc*. 

Containing  fourteen  stories,  several  of  which  are  now  pub- 
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Cloth,  $1.50. 

"The  reader  turns  from  its  pages  with  the  conviction  that  the  author  has  no  supe. 
ior  to-day  in  animated  narrative  and  virility  of  style.  He  remains  master  of  a  pawel 
n  which  none  of  his  contemporaries  approach  him — the  ability  to  select  out  of  countless 
details  the  few  vital  ones  which  create  the  finished  picture.  He  knows  how,  with  a 
phrase  or  a  word,  to  make  you  see  his  characters  as  he  sees  them,  to  make  you  feci 
Ihe  full  meaning  of  a  dramatic  situation." — Ne%u  York  'J  rid  it  ne. 

"'Many  Inventions'  will  confirm  Mr.  Kipling's  reputation.  .  .  .  We  would  cite 
with  pleasure  sentences  from  almost  every  page,  and  e.\tract  incidents  from  almost 
every  story.  But  to  what  end?  Here  is  the  completest  book  that  Mr.  Kipling  has  yet 
given  us  in  workmanship,  the  weightiest  and  most  humane  in  breadth  of  view." — 
Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

"  Mr.  Kipling's  powers  as  a  story-teller  are  evidently  not  diminishing.  We  advise 
everybody  to  buy  '  Many  Inventions,'  and  to  profit  by  some  of  the  best  entertainment 
that  modern  fiction  has  to  offer." — iVeiv  York  Snn. 

"  '  Many  Inventions  '  will  be  welcomed  wherever  the  English  language  is  spoken. 
.  .  .  Every  one  of  the  stories  bears  the  imprint  of  a  master  who  conjures  up  incident 
as  if  by  magic,  and  who  portrays  character,  scenery,  and  feeling  with  an  ease  which  is 
only  exceeded  by  the  boldness  of  force." — Boston  Globe. 

"The  book  will  get  and  hold  the  closest  attention  of  the  reader." — American 
Bookseller. 

"  Mr.  Rudyard  Kipling's  place  in  the  world  of  letters  is  unique.  He  sits  quite  alnof 
and  alone,  the  incomparable  and  inimitable  master  of  the  exquisitely  fine  art  of  short- 
story  writing.  Mr.  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  has  perhaps  written  several  tales  which 
match  the  run  of  Mr.  Kipling's  work,  but  the  best  of  Mr.  Kipling's  tales  are  matchless, 
and  his  latest  collection,  'Many  Inventions,'  contains  several  such." — Philadelphia 
Press. 

"Of  late  essays  in  fiction  the  work  of  Kipling  can  be  compared  to  only  three— 
Blackmore's  '  Lorna  Doone,'  Stevenson's  marvelous  skstch  of  Villon  in  the  'New 
Arabian  Nights,'  and  Thomas  Hardy's  '  Tess  of  the  D'Urbervilles.'  ...  It  is  probably 
owmg  to  this  extreme  care  that  '  Many  Inventions  '  is  undoubtedly  Mr.  Kipling's  best 
book." — Chicago  Post.   ' 

"  Mr.  Kipling's  style  is  too  well  known  to  American  readers  to  require  introduction, 
but  it  can  scarcely  be  amiss  to  .say  there  is  not  a  story  in  this  collection  that  does  not 
more  than  repay  a  perusal  of  them  all." — Baltimore  American. 

"  As  a  writer  of  short  stories  Rudyard  Kipling  is  a  geniu.s.  He  has  had  imitators, 
but  they  have  not  been  successful  in  dimming  the  luster  of  his  achievements  by  con- 
trast. .  .  .  'Many  Inventions'  is  the  title.  And  they  are  inventions— entirely  origi- 
nal in  incident,  ingenious  in  plot,  and  startling  by  their  boldness  and  force." — Rochester 
Herald. 

"How  clever  he  isf  This  must  always  be  the  first  thought  on  reading  such  a 
collection  of  Kipling's  stories.  Here  is  art — art  of  the  most  consummate  sort  Com- 
pared with  this,  the  stories  of  our  brightest  young  writers  become  commonplace."— 
New  Yfl}-k  Evangelist. 

"  Taking  the  group  as  a  whole,  it  may  be  said  that  the  execution  is  up  to  his  best 
5n  the  past,  while  two  or  three  sketches  surpass  in  rounded  strength  and  vividness  ol 
imagination  anything  else  he  has  done." — Hartford  Co-urant. 

"Fifteen  more  extraordinary  sketches,  without  a  tinge  of  sensationalism,  it  woukl 
Jje  hard  to  find.  .  .  .  Every  one  has  an  individuality  of  its  own  which  fascinates  tbi» 
leader." — Boston  Ti>nes. 


New  York:  D.  APPLETON  &  CO..  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


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NOVELS    BY    HALL   CAINE. 
^HE  MANXMAN.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"A  story  of  marvelous  dramatic  intensity,  and  in  its  ethical  meaning  has  a  force 
compaiable  only  to  Hawthorne's  '  Scarlet  Letter.'  " — Boston  Beacon. 

"A  work  of  power  which  is  another  stone  added  to  the  foundation  of  enduring  fame 
to  which  Mr.  Caine  is  yearly  adding." — Public  Opinion. 

"A  wonderfully  strong  study  of  character;  a  powerful  analysis  of  those  elements 
which  go  to  make  up  the  strength  and  weakness  of  a  man,  which  are  at  fierce  warfare 
within  the  same  breast;  contending  against  each  other,  as  it  were,  the  one  to  raise  him 
to  fame  and  power,  the  other  to  drag  him  down  to  degradation  and  shame.  Never  in 
the  whole  range  of  literature  have  we  seen  the  struggle  between  these  forces  for 
supremacy  over  the  man  more  powerfully,  more  realistically  delineated  than  Mr.  Caine 
pictures  it." — Boston  Home  Jourftal. 

n^HE    DEEMSTER.      A     Romance    of  the   Isle    of 

-*        Man.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  Hall  Caine  has    already  given   us  some   very  strong  and  fine  work,  and  '  The 

Deemster '  is  a  story  of  unusual  power.  .  .  .   Certain  passages  and  chapters  have  an 

intensely  dramatic   grasp,  and   hold  the  fascinated  reader  with  a  force  rarely  excited 
nowadays  in  literature." — The  Critic. 

"One  of  the  strongest  novels  which  has  appeared  in  many  a  day." — San  Fran- 
cisco Chronicle. 

"  Fascinates  the  mind  like  the  gathering  and  bursting  of  a  storm." — Illustrated 
London  News, 

"Deserves  to  be  ranked  among  the  remarkable  novels  of  the  day." — Chicago 
Times. 


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HE  BONDMAN.     New  edition.     i2mo.     Cloth, 
$1.50. 

"  The  welcome  given  to  this  story  has  cheered  and  touched  me,  but  I  am  con- 
scious that,  to  win  a  reception  so  warm,  such  a  book  must  have  had  readers  who 
brought  to  it  as  much  as  they  took  away.  ...  I  have  called  my  story  a  saga,  merely 
because  it  follows  the  epic  method,  and  I  must  not  claim  for  it  at  any  point  the  weighty 
responsibility  of  history,  or  serious  obligations  to  the  world  of  fact.  But  it  matters  not 
to  me  what  Icelanders  may  call  '  The  Bondman,'  if  they  will  honor  me  by  reading  it  in 
the  open-hearted  spirit  and  with  the  free  mind  with  which  they  are  content  to  read  of 
Grettir  and  of  his  fights  with  the  Troll." — From  the  Author's  Pre/ace. 

r^APT'N    DAVY'S    HONEYMOON.      A    Manx 
^-^       Yarn.     i2mo.     Paper,  50  cents  ;  cloth,  $1.00. 

".\  new  departure  by  this  author.  Unlike  his  previous  works,  this  little  tale  is 
almost  wholly  humorous,  with,  however,  a  current  of  pathos  underneath.  It  is  not 
always  that  an  author  can  succeed  equally  well  in  tragedy  and  in  comedy,  but  it  looks 
as  though  Mr.  Hall  Caine  would  be  one  of  the  exceptions." — London  Literary 
World. 

"It  is  pleasant  to  meet  the  author  of  '  The  Deemster'  in  a  brightly  humorous  little 
story  like  this.  ...  It  shows  the  same  observation  of  Manx  character,  and  much  of 
the  same  artistic  skill." — Philadelphia  Times. 


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'HE  GREATER  GLORY.  A  Story  of  High  Life. 
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Dutch  novelists,  it  is  doubtful  if  many  American  readers  knew  that  there  were  Dut«:h 
novelists.  His  '  God's  Fool'  and  '  Joost  Avelingh  '  made  for  him  an  American  reputa- 
tion. To  our  mind  this  just  published  work  of  his  is  his  best.  .  .  .  He  is  a  master  ot 
epigram,  an  artist  in  description,  a  prophet  in  insight." — Boston  Advertiser. 

"  It  would  take  several  columns  to  give  any  adequate  idea  of  the  superb  way  in 
which  the  Dutch  novelist  has  developed  his  theme  and  wrought  out  one  of  the  most 
impressive  stories  of  the  period.  ...  It  belongs  to  the  small  class  of  novels  which 
one  can  not  afford  to  neglect." — San  Francisco  Chronicle. 

"  Maarten  Maartens  stands  head  and  shoulders  above  the  average  novelist  of  the 
day  in  intellectual  subtlety  and  imaginative  power." — Boston  Beacon. 

/^OD'S   FOOL.     By   Maarten    Maartens.       i2mo. 
^     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"  Throughout  there  is  an  epigrammatic  force  which  would  m.ike  palatable  a  less 
interesting  story  of  human  lives  or  one  less  deftly  told." — London  Saturday  Review. 

"  Perfectly  easy,  graceful,  humorous.  .  .  .  The  author's  skill  in  character-drawing 
is  undeniable." — London  Chronicle. 

"  A  remarkable  work." — Neiv  York  Times. 

"Maarten  Maartens  has  secured  a  firm  footing  in  the  eddies  of  current  literature. 
.  .  .  Pathos  deepens  into  tragedy  in  the  thrilling  story  of '  God's  Fool.' " — Philadel- 
phia Ledger. 

"  Its  preface  alone  stamps  the  author  as  one  of  the  leading  English  novelists  of 
to-day." — Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

"The  story  is  wonderfully  brillian*.  .  .  .  The  interest  never  lags;  the  style  is 
realistic  and  intense;  and  there  is  a  constantly  underlying  current  of  subtle  humor. 
.  .  .  It  is,  in  short,  a  book  which  no  student  of  modern  literature  should  fail  to  read." 
— Boston  Times. 

"  A  story  of  remarkable  interest  and  point." — New  York  Observer. 


7 


'COST  AVELINGH.      By  Maarten    Maartens. 
i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"So  unmistakably  good  as  to  induce  the  hope  that  an  acquaintance  with  the  Dutch 
literature  of  fiction  may  soon  become  more  general  among  us." — London  Morning 
Post. 

.        "In  scarcely  any  of  the  sensational  novels  of  the  day  will  the  reader  find  more 
nature  or  more  human  nature." — London  standard. 

"A  novel  ofa  very  high  type.  At  once  strongly  realistic  and  powerfully  ideal- 
istic."— London  Literary  Jl^orld. 

"  Full  of  local  color  and  rich  in  quaint  phraseology  and  suggestion." — London 
Telegraph. 

"  Maarten  Maartens  is  a  capital  story-teller." — Pall  Mall  Gazette. 

"Our  English  writers  of  fiction  will  have  to  look  to  their  laurels." — Birmingham 
Daily  Post. 

New  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


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GILBERT   PARKER'S   BEST   BOOKS. 


"  Mr.  Parker  has  been  named  more  than  once,  and  in  quarters  of 
repute,  'the  coming  man.'" — London  Literary  World. 


The  Trail  of  the  Sword. 

Paper,  50  cents  ;  cloth,  $1.00. 

Philadelphia  Bulletin. 

"Mr.  Parker  here  adds  to  a  reputation  already  wide,  and  anew 
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situation  and  climax." 

JDittsburg  Times. 

"  The  tale  holds  the  reader's  interest  from  first  to  last,  for  it  is  full 
of  fire  and  spirit,  abounding  in  incident,  and  marked  by  good  charac- 
ter drawing." 

The   Trespasser. 

Paper,  50  cents  ;  cloth,  $1.00. 
J^he  Critic. 

"  Interest,  pith,  force,  and  charm — Mr.  Parker's  new  story  pos- 
sesses all  these  qualities.  .  .  .  Almost  bare  of  synthetical  decoration, 
his  paragraphs  are  stirring  because  they  are  real.  We  read  at  times — 
as  we  have  read  the  g^reat  masters  of  romance— breathlessly." 

r?oston  Advertiser. 

"  Gilbert  Parker  writes  a  strong  novel,  but  thus  far  this  is  his  mas- 
terpiece. ...   It  is  one  of  the  great  novels  of  the  year." 

.    The  Translation  of  a  Savage. 

Flexible  cloth,  75  cents. 

J^he  Nation. 

"  A  book  which  no  one  will  be  satisfied  to  put  down  until  the  end 
has  been  matter  of  certainty  and  assurance." 

Tioston  Home  yoitrnal. 

"A  story  of  remarkable  interest,  originality,  and  ingenuity  of  con- 
struction." 

J  ondon  Daily  Neius. 

"  The  perusal  of  this  romance  will  repay  those  who  care  for  new 
and  original  types  of  character,  and  who  are  susceptible  to  the  fascina- 
tion of  a  fresh  and  vigorous  style." 


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HE  STORY  OF  SONNY  SAHIB.     Illustrated. 


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SOCIAL  DEPARTURE:  How  Orihodocia  and  I 
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HTHE  SIMPLE  ADVENTURES    OF  A    MEM- 

-*        SAHIB.     With  37  Illustrations  by  F.  H.  Townsend.     i2mo. 

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ENEFITS  FORGOT.     By  Wolcott  Balestier, 
author  of  "  Reffey,"  "  A  Common  Story,"  etc.     i2mo.     Cloth, 
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machine  is  throbbing  most  tumultuously." — London  Chronicle. 

"  The  author  manages  a  difficult  scene  in  a  masterly  way,  and  his  style  is  brilliant 
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T^UFFELS.    By  Edward  Eggleston,  author  of  *'  The 
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"  Destined  to  become  vsry  popular.  The  stories  are  of  infinite  variety.  All  are 
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nrHE  FAITH  DOCTOR.     By  Edward  Eggleston, 

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etc.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

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education  to  both  of  her  admirers." — London  Athentezan. 

"  '  The  Faith  Doctor  '  is  worth  reading  for  its  style,  its  wit,  and  its  humor,  and  not 
less,  we  may  add,  for  its  pathos." — Londoti  Spectator. 

"  Much  skill  is  shown  by  the  author  in  making  these  'fads'  the  basis  of  a  novel  of 
great  interest.  .  .  .  One  who  tries  to  keep  in  the  current  of  good  novel-reading  must 
certainly  find  time  to  read  '  The  Faith  Doctor.'  " — Buffalo  Commercial. 


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v/ho  have  been  cloyed  by  a  too  long  succession  of  insipid  sweetness  and  familiar 
incident."- — London  A thentsum. 

"  The  author  is  gifted  with  a  lively  fancy,  and  the  clever  plots  he  has  devised  gain 
greatly  in  interest,  thanks  to  the  unfamiliar  surroundings  in  which  the  action  for  the 
most  part  takes  place." — London  Literary  World. 

"  Eight  stories,  all  exhibiting  notable  originality  in  conception  and  mastery  of  art, 
the  first  two  illustrating  them  best.  They  add  a  dramatic  power  that  makes  them 
masterpieces.  Both  belong  to  the  period  when  fencing  was  most  skillful,  and  illustrate 
its  practice." — Boston  Globe. 

New  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO~  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


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ADA   CAMBRIDGE'S   NOVELS. 
P IDELIS.     i2ino.     Paper,  50  cents  ;  cloth,  $1.00. 

The  animated  and  always  interesting  stories  of  Ada  Cambridge  have  obtained 
a  well- merited  popularity.  In  some  respects  "  Fidelis  "  is  her  mo*t  ambitious  work, 
and  it  is  safe  to  predict  for  it  a  marked  success  among  readers  of  wholesome  and 
entertaining  fiction. 

Y  GUARDIAN,     ismo.     Paper,  50  cents  ;    cloth, 
1 1. 00. 

"A  story  which  will,  from  first  to  last,  enlist  the  sympathies  of  the  reader  by  its 
simplicity  of  style  and  fresh,  genuine  feeling.  .  .  .  The  author  is  awyazV  at  the  dehnea- 
tion  of  character." — Boston  Transcript. 

"The  denoixinentii  all  that  the  most  ardent  romance  reader  could  desire." — Chi- 
cngo  Evening  yourital. 

HE  THREE  MISS  KINGS.     i2mo.     Paper,  50 
cents  ;  cloth,  $1.00. 

"An  exceedingly  strong  novel.  It  is  an  Australian  story,  teeming  with  a  certain 
calmness  of  emotional  power  that  finds  expression  in  a  continual  outflow  of  living 
thought  and  feeling." — Boston  Times. 

"  The  storj'  is  told  with  great  brilliancy,  the  character  and  society  sketching  is  very 
charming,  while  delightful  incidents  and  happy  surprises  abound.  It  is  a  triple  love- 
story,  pure  in  tone,  and  of  very  high  literary  merit.'  — Chicago  Herald. 

OT  ALL  IN   VAIN.       i2mo.      Paper,  50  cents; 
cloth,  $1.00. 

"A  worthy  companion  to  the  best  of  the  author's  former  efforts,  and  in  some  re- 
spects superior  to  any  of  them." — Detroit  Free  Press. 

"  Its  surprises  are  as  unexpected  as  Frank  Stockton's,  but  they  are  the  surprises 
that  are  met  with  so  constantly  in  human  experience.  ...  A  better  story  has  not  been 
published  in  many  moons." — Philadelphia  Inquirer. 

MARRIAGE  CEREMONY.     i2mo.     Paper,  50 
cents  ;  cloth,  $1.00. 

"'A  Marriage  Ceremony'  is  highly  original  in  conception,  its  action  graceful 
though  rapid,  and  its  characters  sparkling  with  that  life  and  sprightliness  that  have 
made  their  author  rank  as  a  peer  of  delineators." — Baltimore  American. 

"This  story  by  Ada  Cambridge  is  one  of  her  best,  and  to  say  that  is  to  at  once 
award  it  high  praise." — Boston  Advertiser. 

"  It  is  a  pleasure  to  read  this  novel." — London  AthencEum. 


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LITTLE  MINX.     i2mo.     Paper,  50  cents  ;  cloth, 
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"A  thoroughly  charming  new  novel,  which  is  just  the  finest  bit  of  work  its  author 
has  yet  accomplished." — Baltimore  American. 

"  The  character  of  the  versatile,  resilient  heroine  is  especially  cleverly  drawn." — 
Ntw  York  Co7nmercial  Advertiser. 


New  York  :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


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JOURNEY  IN  OTHER  WORLDS.  A  Ro^ 
mance  of  the  Future.  By  John  Jacob  Astor.  With  9  full- 
page  Illustrations  by  Dan  Beard.     i2mo.     Cloth,  $1.50. 

"An  interesting  and  cleverly  devised  book.  .  .  .  No  lack  of  imagination.  .  .. 
Shows  a  skillful  and  vvfide  acquaintance  with  scientific  facts." — Neiti  York  Herald. 

"  The  author  speculates  cleverly  and  daringly  on  the  scientific  advance  of  the  earth, 
and  he  revels  in  the  physical  luxuriance  of  Jupiter;  but  he  also  lets  his  imagination 
travel  through  spiritual  realms,  and  evidently  delights  in  mystic  speculation  quite  as 
much  as  in  scientific  investigation.  I(  he  is  a  follower  of  Jules  Verne,  he  has  not  forgot- 
ten also  to  study  the  philosophers." — New  York  Tribune. 

"  A  beautiful  example  of  typographical  art  and  the  bookmaker's  skill.  .  .  ,  To 
appreciate  the  story  one  must  read  it." — JVctv  i'ork  Co7ninercial  Advertiser. 

"  The  date  of  the  events  narrated  in  this  book  is  supposed  to  be  2000  a.  d.  The 
inhabitants  of  North  America  have  increased  mightily  in  numbers  and  power  and 
knowledge.  It  is  an  age  of  marvelous  scientific  attainments.  Flying  machines  have 
long  been  in  common  use,  and  finally  a  new  power  is  discovered  called  '  apergy,* 
the  reverse  of  gravitation,  by  which  people  are  able  to  fly  off  into  space  in  any  direc- 
tion, and  at  what  speed  they  please." — New  York  Sun. 

"The  scientific  romance  by  John  Jacob  Astor  is  more  than  likely  to  secure  a  dis- 
tinct popular  success,  and  achieve  widespread  vogue  both  as  an  amusing  and  interest- 
esting  story,  and  a  thoughtful  endeavor  to  prophesy  some  of  the  triumphs  which  science 
is  destined  to  win  by  the  year  2000.  The  book  has  been  written  with  a  purpose,  and 
that  a  higher  one  than  the  mere  spinning  of  a  highly  imaginative  yam.  Mr.  Astor  has 
been  engaged  upon  the  book  for  over  two  years,  and  has  brought  to  bear  upon  it  a 
great  deal  of  hard  work  in  the  way  of  scientific  research,  of  which  he  has  been  very  fond 
ever  since  he  entered  Harv.ird.  It  is  admirably  illustrated  by  Dan  Beard. " — Mail  and 
Express. 

"  Mr.  Astor  has  himself  almost  all  the  qualities  imaginable  for  making  the  science  of 
astronomy  popular.  He  knows  the  learned  maps  of  the  astrologers.  He  knows  the 
work  of  Copernicus.  He  has  made  calculations  and  observations.  He  is  enthusiastic, 
and  the  spectacular  does  not  frighten  him." — New  York  Times. 

"  The  work  will  remind  the  reader  very  much  of  Jules  Verne  in  its  general  plan  of 
using  scientific  facts  and  speculation  as  a  skeleton  on  which  to  hang  the  romantic 
adventures  of  the  central  figures,  who  have  all  the  daring  ingenuity  and  luck  of  Mr. 
Verne's  heroes.  Mr.  Astor  uses  history  to  point  out  what  in  his  opinion  science  may 
be  expected  to  accomplish.     It  is  a  romance  with  a  purpose." — Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

"  The  romance  contains  many  new  and  striking  developments  of  the  possibilities 
of  science  hereafter  to  be  explored,  but  the  volume  is  intensely  interesting,  both  as  a 
product  of  imagination  and  an  illustration  of  the  ingenious  and  original  application  of 
science." — Rochester  Herald. 


New  York :  D.  APPLETON  &  CO.,  72  Fifth  Avenue. 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

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